


Vertigo

by cupofgenmaicha



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: (Hoseok's father and brother), Acrophobia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chaebol Changkyun, Chaebol Hyunwoo, Chef Kihyun, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Developing Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Homophobia, Hospitalization (side character), Hyunwoo and Changkyun are cousins in this story!, Hyunwoo and Kihyun are exes, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Minhyuk and Jooheon may have something going on, Referenced Loss of Parents, Rival YouTubers, Rock climbing, Sacrificing for family, Secretary Hyungwon, Slow Burn, Wedding Planner Minhyuk, YouTuber Jooheon, Youtuber hoseok, chaebols, don't tell Hoseok..., they're still friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2019-07-10 12:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15949469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupofgenmaicha/pseuds/cupofgenmaicha
Summary: Hoseok, a popular YouTuber, just can't seem to avoid his childhood friend—and first love—Hyunwoo.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first work in the MX fandom! I love my soft babies Hoseok and Hyunwoo so much! I was surprised to see so few fics about them, so I decided to write my own!
> 
> Please read all the tags. They should be complete for the entirety of the story. If you have any questions about any of them, be sure to ask in the comment section.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the first chapter!
> 
> ***Please do not repost my fics! Thank you!***

_Hello, Bunnies! Wonho here, and I’m in—you guessed it, Taipei, Taiwan. I’m starving and ready to show you some of my fave food finds. Let’s get it!_

Hoseok pauses the video editor and stretches his arms overhead, fingertips grazing the plastic panel above his head. The plane’s engine continues to drone and most of the passengers are sleeping, including the woman next to him whose head keeps lulling to the side, nearly resting against his shoulder. He shifts in the seat, struggling to find a comfortable position, nearly impossible when his body feels much too large for the claustrophobic space. He checks his phone, calculating the time difference; he has roughly 50 minutes left until the plane lands in Seoul. It will only be 8 pm when his plane lands, but after nearly a full week of collecting shots from around Taiwan, developing music to accompany the scenes and collaborating with local YouTubers, all he wants to do is change into pajama pants, eat a bowl of ramyeon and curl up into bed.

He has been editing his latest video for most of the flight, with the goal of uploading it to his channel _Spicy Ramyeon_ within the next day or two. His bunnies—the one million or so subscribers who follow along on his adventures—are going to be so happy. He cracks his knuckles and grins to himself. _They’re so cute._

Hoseok is a relatively popular YouTuber, with most of his videos focused on travel and food, but he occasionally teases with tiny peeks into his daily life. His subscriber numbers usually jump when he posts the rare sweaty selca at the gym.

Each time he cuts scenes out or splices in new images, he watches himself transform from Hoseok to Wonho. His subscribers love Wonho—the guy with the built body, limitless stomach, loud laugh and easy smile. He replays the video, trimming scenes where he doesn’t look quite as happy, snipping little pieces of _Hoseok_ that shine through. Hours of footage are cut down into a twenty minute video—edited to perfection.

The moment Hoseok walks through the door to his apartment, his roommate screams, “Hyung!” in his ear as he squeezes the oxygen from his lungs. “You’re home!”

“Can’t breathe,” Hoseok manages to wheeze.

“Sorry,” Minhyuk apologizes with a bright smile, brushing strands of pink hair from his eyes. “Where’d you go? What’d you do? Who’d you eat?” he asks salaciously with waggling eyebrows.

“Someone’s thirsty,” Hoseok teases as he pokes Minhyuk in the stomach.

“Not my fault,” Minhyuk groans as he flops onto the couch, smashing his cheek into the worn dark brown leather. “You’ve been too busy to go out with me.”

“Stop sulking. You know I’m too old for clubbing now.” Hoseok walks into the tiny kitchen and grabs a pot to make ramyeon.

“But you’re my lucky charm!” he hears from the other room.

It’s true. Whenever Hoseok goes out with him, he always winds up alone at the bar fending off nasty pervs while Minhyuk is having the time of his life sandwiched between gyrating bodies on the dance floor.

Hoseok chops up some green onion to add to the ramyeon; it makes it easier to pretend that he’s eating a somewhat healthy meal. “I don’t know, Minhyuk-ah. I had to take on more projects this month to help out my mom.” Hoseok mostly lives off of YouTube ad revenue, but also edits videos for other YouTubers to supplement his income.

Minhyuk is silent, and Hoseok can imagine his lips jutted out into a pout. He rolls his eyes as he gathers two sets of chopsticks and places the pot of boiling hot ramyeon on the wooden coffee table in front of the television, then he flops onto the couch next to his roommate. “I promise to take you out soon, okay?” he offers as he hands Minhyuk a pair of chopsticks.

Minhyuk looks down at the ramyeon then back to Hoseok. “O-kay!” he agrees, then they both dig into the ramyeon before it gets soggy.

/

_Buzz. Buzz. Buzz._

Hyunwoo groans as he fumbles around, fingers searching blindly for his cell phone interrupting his precious few hours of sleep. He cracks open his eyes to read the glowing red digital display next to his bed. 4:57 AM.

“Hello?” he croaks into the receiver. If he weren’t so tired, he’d cringe at how his voice cracked.

“Hyunwoo-yah, you must have been sleeping,” his father’s voice rumbles over the line.

“No, no. Just resting for a bit,” he assures as he forcibly blinks away the last remnants of sleep, sitting up and leaning his back against the wood headrest. 

He can hear his father chuckling, low and comfortable. “Good. You don’t get enough rest these days.”

Hyunwoo can hear the hesitation in his father’s voice, and he waits, letting the silence coax out whatever is on his father’s mind. The line is so quiet that he can hear Changkyun snoring quietly in the other room.

When his father doesn’t say anything, Hyunwoo asks gently, “Did you sleep at the office again, Dad?”

His father clears his throat uncomfortably.

“Are you worried about the business?” Hyunwoo continues. “I can help more—take over more sections of the company—”

“No, son. That’s not why I’m calling. I just—” he hesitates, sighs.

“Oh,” Hyunwoo says softly, finally understanding. “It’s October 30th.” 

He had forgotten, so wrapped up in daily meetings that he had forgotten about his own mother’s death anniversary. He balls his hand into a fist, mentally chastising himself. _What kind of a son is he?_

“Will you go with me to her grave?”

“Of course, father. I’ll ask Secretary Chae to clear my schedule this morning.”

After saying goodbye, he pads into the kitchen, turns on the coffeemaker and searches through the refrigerator. It’s completely empty, save for some beer and half-empty bottles of water. He flicks at the forgotten note on the fridge that he had written in thick black letters a few days ago: **buy food**. He adds a couple exclamation points to it for emphasis.

As the coffee begins to bubble, he pokes his head into Changkyun’s room. The room is dark; the sun won’t grace the horizon for another hour. “Changkyun-ah,” Hyunwoo coos as he nudges the sleeping man’s shoulder. Changkyun curls up tighter, smashing his face into the plushie he’s hugging. Hyunwoo smiles, just managing to keep himself from ruffling his hair. _He isn’t a child anymore_ , Hyunwoo reminds himself. Although in Hyunwoo’s mind, he’ll always be six years old, parentless and scared, wearing Pokémon pajamas that are just a tad too big on him.

“Go away, devil,” Changkyun mumbles, his deep voice uneven and rough with sleep.

“That’s ‘Devil-hyung’ to you,” Hyunwoo says gruffly, trying in vain not to smile as he attempts to wrestle the covers off his cousin. “Now, get up or I’m going to throw ice cold water on you again.”

“We don’t have any ice,” he croaks, but sits up with half-closed eyes, running fingers through his unruly black hair.

Hyunwoo sobers, saying quietly, “We’re visiting my mother’s grave today.”

“It’s that time already,” Changkyun murmurs, nodding his head. “Should I prepare anything?”

“No need,” Hyunwoo replies as he slips on a sweatshirt for the short walk to the corner store. “I’ll grab everything we need while you get ready.”

Roughly forty-five minutes later, Hyunwoo and Changkyun are dressed in suits and wool coats, armed with bouquets of flowers. Hyunwoo’s driver picks them up in front of the high-rise apartment building and escorts them to the hilly gravesite on the outskirts of Seoul. A thick mist shrouds the hillside and clings to Hyunwoo’s exposed skin as the two men walk up the path to a well-maintained plot in the secluded, far end of the graveyard. His father is kneeling in front of the massive stone marker, already decorated with framed pictures and bowls brimming with his late-wife’s favorite foods.

Ever since Hyunwoo was a small child, he always felt that his father’s presence was larger than life, filling up the room before he even entered it, but right now he seems so tiny, frail, bent over the gravesite he has spent years meticulously maintaining.

His father has always been caring and devoted to his family, but something broke inside him when first, his wife passed away, then his own father passed away six months later, leaving the company to the only surviving heir. As Chairman of Son Group, Hyunwoo’s father threw all his heartache and grief into developing the family business. He did that, and then some, voraciouslyexpanding the business to the point where they now own a major stake in Seoul’s economy.

Hyunwoo swallowed his own grief and has diligently followed in his father’s footsteps, pouring his blood, sweat and unending loyalty into building the Son family’s legacy—and he couldn’t be more proud to do so.

“Father,” Hyunwoo says gently with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to head back to headquarters. I have meetings this afternoon with foreign partners that couldn’t be moved. Will you be okay here?”

His father doesn’t look up, just waves his son away. “I’m fine. You should go.”

As they walk back to the car, footsteps scuffing over the rocky path, Changkyun murmurs, “It’s been twelve years now.”

Hyunwoo hums. “I think he’ll be like this until he can join her again.”

The mist turns into a steady drizzle, the droplets pattering against the car windows as the company driver weaves the Mercedes through Seoul’s snarled traffic. Hyunwoo stares blindly out the window, forcing the spillage of emotion he felt that morning back into the lockbox buried deep inside his chest. _No one cares_ , he reminds himself as he pulls out his phone and begins to reply to emails.

Secretary Chae Hyungwon greets them with a polite bow at the entrance to Son Group’s headquarters, located inside a massive fifty-five floor steel and glass building competing with its neighbors to swallow swaths of Seoul’s sky. 

He waves goodbye to Changkyun, who—as someone who is used to hard knocks—works on the east side of the building as an employee rather than alongside Hyunwoo, as a rightful part-owner of the company. 

With so little time between meetings, Hyungwon skips the small talk and briefs Hyunwoo on everything that had happened that morning and what he should expect throughout the day.

“HK Corp in Beijing called while you were out of the office. Their executives are flying here on Wednesday for an emergency meeting with you, and—” he sighs dramatically and pushes his black-rimmed glasses up his nose, “they are _not_ happy.”

Hyungwon hands him some files as they walk through the hallway and continues, “I already reserved a table at The Kitchen for the four of you in one of the VIP rooms.”

“Could you change it to five? I’ll bring Changkyun along.”

Hyungwon stops short and flicks his gaze to Hyunwoo’s. “Changkyun, as in your cousin, the one person explicitly forbidden by Chairman Son to attend executive meetings. Or is it some other Changkyun?”

“No, that’s the right Changkyun. We just have to keep it a secret.” He presses a finger to his lips, nearly barking out a laugh when he sees Hyungwon’s stricken expression.

Hyungwon raises a thick eyebrow in disbelief and scoffs. “Well, that’s definitely the _best_ news I’ve heard all day.”

Hyunwoo clears the laughter from his throat as he and his sulky assistant briefly discuss the time-sensitive reports that need his final approval. He pauses outside the conference room, steeling himself for another long exhausting day.

“Are you ready, sir?” Hyungwon is suddenly serious, focused on the task at hand.

Hyunwoo nods and they both walk into the meeting space, immediately commanding the attention from every attendee in the room.

“Changkyun-ah!” he calls out when he finally drags himself home. It’s 11 pm and he realizes belatedly that he still hasn’t eaten anything since Secretary Chae had dropped off a salad on his desk sometime that afternoon. 

“Out here!” he hears as he pads barefoot through the loft apartment in search of food. He groans when he looks inside the fridge and finds it still completely empty except for beer; now even the water is gone. He pokes the damn post-it note that’s still attached to the fridge, mocking him, then underlines the message a couple times. Now there is _no way_ he can forget. 

He settles on popping open a bottle of beer, too exhausted to jog over to the corner 7-11 for tasteless packaged food. Hopefully he’ll have time in the morning to grab some essentials before work.

Hyunwoo slides open the glass door at the rear of the apartment, breathing in the icy air as he pulls on an old black hoodie and eases into one of the empty wooden chairs—remnants leftover from his business school days in Los Angeles—crowded on the balcony overlooking the glittering Seoul skyline.

Changkyun tosses a bag into his lap, and inside he finds a white box filled to the brim with kimbap.

“I bought too much,” he interjects before Hyunwoo can even open his mouth. “You’re probably the only chaebol in Seoul without a personal chef on staff. You really should eat better, hyung.” 

Hyunwoo glances over, but Changkyun’s gaze is glued to the inky sky.

Hyunwoo is so exhausted, he doesn’t know whether he wants to hug Changkyun or throttle him for taking care of him again when _Hyunwoo_ is the hyung. He takes a long swig of beer and settles on saying, “Thanks, Changkyun-ah.”

They sit there in comfortable silence until long after the beer and kimbap are gone, when both their noses are numb and red.

/

“Great, thanks for contacting me,” Hoseok says into his cell phone, just barely able to dampen the excitement in his voice.

“Yes!” Hoseok bellows as soon as the call ends. He claps his hands together gleefully—he _finally_ got the okay to film at The Kitchen, one of Seoul’s most expensive and exclusive restaurants. The kind that caters to the rich and famous; the kind he needs a suit for— _oh shit, a suit?_

The Kitchen’s PR spokesperson told him to be at the restaurant by 7 pm that evening to hold his table. He needs to get ready quickly in order to be there on time. He searches through his closet, eyes jumping from one article of clothing to the next, mumbling under his breath, “Where the hell is it?”

Then a pang of dread strikes him—and he already feels his jaw clenching as he strides into Minhyuk’s room, pulling open the dusty curtains and gasping in horror at the mountains of shit crowding the carpeted floor. He gets to work pawing through piles of clean and dirty laundry, then wails dramatically when he spies his suit pants crumpled into a ball near a half-eaten slice of pizza. 

“One of these days I’m going to kill you, Minhyuk-ah,” he promises as he shakes his fist at the empty room.

He keeps his panic at bay as he smooths out the wrinkles and dresses quickly, checking himself out in the mirror. _Pretty good_ , he thinks, then turns around, _pretty—shit_. There’s a huge, splotchy oil stain gracing his left ass cheek. He narrows his eyes; the more he looks at it, the more it looks like a hand print. Yep, he’s going to kill that sweet, adorable, blinding ball of sunshine—but later. He needs to film this damn video first. He curses to himself as he pulls everything out of his closet—piling t-shirts, his favorite leather jacket, and gym clothes onto his bed—ultimately determining that he has absolutely nothing to wear. 

Maybe he shouldn’t bother filming tonight—he feels a frown pull at his lips—but, he’s waited  _months_ for this opportunity to be the first vlogger to film inside the exclusive restaurant. He catches himself chewing on his thumb nail again and forces his hand back to his side. He could gain a lot of new subscribers this way. More views equals more money—and his mom’s birthday is coming up. He opts for a grey cashmere sweater and black slacks that hug his thighs.

“I’m home!” he hears Minhyuk sing out just as he’s applying a fresh dab of cologne to his neck. “Hey, want to grab dinner with me?” Minhyuk stops short when he spies Hoseok’s reflection in the mirror and whistles lowly. “Someone looks expensive tonight. Hot date?”

“Yeah, with my camera,” Hoseok answers with a wry grin. “Filming at The Kitchen tonight. They finally got back to me,” he answers as he checks himself out one last time, adding a silver ring to his thumb.

“Oh, cool.” Minhyuk’s stomach growls loudly and he grimaces. “My stomach hates me. Eat some good food for me?”

“Sure thing,” he says as he begins to leave, but pauses in the doorway. “By the way, Minhyuk-ah. Should I even ask how you managed to get a grease stain on the ass of my nice, expensive, _only_ pair of suit pants?”

“Oh, that.” Minhyuk’s eyes shift to a spot on the carpet and a sly smile creeps onto his face.

Hoseok holds up his hand and says, “Nope. Never mind. Don’t tell me.”

He checks that he has all his equipment packed into his camera bag, then walks out into the chilly air, snagging a seat in the subway for the twenty minute ride to Sinsadong. He walks along the wide tree-lined boulevard, shoes crunching over fallen leaves and through shallow puddles leftover from the afternoon’s rain.

While the outside of the restaurant is clean and sleek, like most other buildings in the neighborhood, The Kitchen’s dining area is intimate and cozy, tables warmly lit by tea candles. As he glances around the restaurant, eyes roaming over the heads of famous idols, politicians and well-known diplomats, Hoseok understands immediately why it took so much time for his request to be granted. Even though he is paying for his meal, and receiving no benefit from the restaurant for filming there, it’s a privilege for him to jump up the reservation list. 

The host walks him to a corner table by the fireplace, providing him more light for filming. He thanks the host and sets up his camera.

As he begins filming, he notices that the quiet restaurant is now abuzz with a growing number of young women—most painfully out of place in their school uniforms—crowding around his table, giggling and calling out “Wonho-oppa!”

He tries to quiet them and asks them politely to leave so that they don’t annoy the other guests, who are now leveling him with annoyed glowers.

“Does this restaurant not have standards anymore?” Hoseok hears the snide comment float over from a nearby table of catty idols, and is positive that even with the giggling school girls, his camera picked it up.

He feels his cheeks heat and is already turning off his camera when the restaurant staff quietly ask him to leave.

He’s so absorbed in his task of putting away his equipment, biting his lips hard against the flood of embarrassment, and eyes downcast with a mixture of shame and frustration, that he doesn’t notice the figure standing off to the side.

“Hoseok-ah?” a man’s voice rumbles near his ear.

He freezes as his mind races to place the soft voice. It’s so familiar, sounds almost like—he slowly looks up into a pair of inquisitive brown eyes and his entire body freezes.

“Lee Hoseok?” the man asks again, quirking his eyebrows. Then he smiles and his entire face lights up—just like all those years ago.

Hoseok’s chest heaves, his brain short circuits—and he panics. “Nope. Wrong person,” he manages to squeak out as he pushes past the man and out the restaurant’s heavy double doors. 

He bolts through the sudden onslaught of rain to the subway station, only realizing that he’s shaking when he feels his muscles vibrate against the hard plastic seat. _Seoul is so massive, he never thought he would see him again_ , he thinks as he runs jittery fingers through his blonde hair. 

He kicks off his leather shoes and flops unceremoniously onto the couch, landing face first into the cushion. He screams into the leather and kicks his feet. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“What happened, hyung?” Minhyuk scrambles out of his room, half-dressed, with a video game controller gripped in his hand.

“I ran into him,” Hoseok mutters.

“Your dad?” Minhyuk screeches in a panic.

“No.” Hoseok shakes his head, whining high in his throat. “Worse.”

Minhyuk is silent, then gasps. “No.”

Hoseok squeezes his eyes shut. “Yes.”

“You saw your first love?”

Hoseok burrows deeper into the cushions, willing the sofa to swallow him whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Until next time~  
> ♡ cupofgenmaicha


	2. Chapter 2

_“Eomma! Help!”_

_Hyunwoo looks up and sees a boy about his age on the top of the jungle gym._

_“Are you okay?” he asks a bit impatiently. His backpack is slipping off his shoulders and he knows his driver is waiting for him._

_The boy shakes his head rapidly, tears cresting his eyes. “I’m scared!”_

_Hyunwoo sighs and drops his backpack, climbing up to the top to sit next to the boy. “How did you get up here if you’re scared?”_

_“I thought it would be fun,” the boy answers with a shaky smile._

_“Follow me! I’ll help you down.”_

_Once they reach the ground, the boy laughs—and Hyunwoo has already decided that he likes him enough to share his coveted video game collection with him._

_“Hey, what’s your name?”_

_“Hoseok. Lee Hoseok.”_

Hyunwoo blinks away the memory, realizing that he’s been staring blankly out one of the room’s floor to ceiling windows overlooking the business district below. Hyunwoo and Hoseok had been inseparable for nearly ten years, then one day Hoseok was gone, like a wisp of smoke. 

Then the rumors started circulating. 

Hyunwoo searched for him until one day he didn’t; he couldn’t keep scratching away at the scab. He allowed scar tissue and endless hours at the office to fill the Hoseok-sized hole in his life.

Hyunwoo felt his world tip when he saw Hoseok again after so many years; even with blonde hair and muscles filling out his sweater, he was instantly recognizable. Hyunwoo could never forget his sweet smile and caring eyes that held an entire universe within their depths. 

And now he’s gone again.

_Is he okay?_ Hyunwoo worries his lip until he tastes the metallic tang of blood on his tongue.

He startles when Hyungwon opens the door, letting it bang behind him. Hyunwoo sits up straight and stretches, forcing himself to focus on work—on the present.

Hyungwon sits down in the sleek leather chair across from Hyunwoo’s executive mahogany desk, pushes an iced Starbucks coffee across to Hyunwoo and takes a long sip of his own coffee. His eyes flutter closed and eyebrows knit together in ecstasy. “Good shit,” he mutters under his breath as he slowly places the cup down on the desk, coming down from the high of his first sip.

“Are you feeling better now?” Hyunwoo asks, scarcely managing to mask the laughter in his voice.

“Barely.” Hyungwon perches his reading glasses on his nose and begins sorting through the stack of papers in front of him.

“Hyungwon-ah,” Hyunwoo begins as he traces the condensation on the outside of his coffee cup with the tip of his finger, “what would you do if you haven’t seen someone since you were a teenager and you run into them again, but they seem—” _scared? upset? angry?_ “—off?”

“That’s…very specific.” Hyungwon watches him over the rim of his glasses, then sits back in the chair and clasps his hands together under his chin.“Who did you run in to?”

“No one. It was a hypothetical.”

Hyungwon smirks lazily. “Whatever you say, Vice Chairman.”

“Let’s get back to work, Secretary Chae.”

Just as they are finishing up reviewing the contract for the expansion project into Vietnam, Hyunwoo’s private line rings and the caller ID notifies him that it is Chairman Son.

“Father,” Hyunwoo answers.

“Hyunwoo-yah, you must be very busy right now,” his father’s voice resonates warmly in his ear.

“Not too busy, Dad. I can always spare a minute for you,” he says as he leans back in his chair and swivels towards the windows, closing his eyes briefly to let the sunlight kiss his face. The sky is cerulean and the air is crisp; Hyunwoo’s muscles twitch, yearning to run outside. He’s been working too many hours recently.

“Congratulations, son. The meeting with HK Corp went exceptionally well, and they’re ready to move forward. We couldn’t have done this without you.”

Hyunwoo’s lips curl into a small, satisfied smile; he’s certain that nothing in the world could top the sense of fulfillment he feels in hearing the pride imbuing his father’s words. “I’ll continue to work hard, Father.” He hesitates, wanting to choose his next words wisely. “And I’ll pass along the good news to Changkyun. He accompanied me to that meeting.”

Hyunwoo hears a long, taut sigh travel over the line. “How many times have I told you, Hyunwoo—”

“He’s more talented than you might think. He could take over some segments of the company, help it grow—”

“I don’t want to talk about him, Hyunwoo.” His father says quietly, suddenly sounding tired. “You know that I love him, but—I only have one son.”

Hyunwoo swallows his argument and yields. “Yes, Father.”

/

“We don’t have sprinkles.”

Hoseok groans and pulls the pillow over his head. They had been out late the night before celebrating Minhyuk’s birthday; fried chicken and beer had turned into soju and karaoke, and the two men stumbled home sometime around 3 am.

“You were supposed to pick up sprinkles from the store.” Now Hoseok can hear the pout in his friend’s voice.

“I didn’t know what flavor you wanted,” Hoseok croaks out, prying one of his bloodshot eyes open, immediately wishing that he hadn’t. Even in the dim room, he can see that Minhyuk looks a little wild eyed from not sleeping, with flour streaking his cheeks and chocolate frosting in his hair.

“Sprinkles only come in one flavor: sprinkle flavor,” Minhyuk sasses with his arms crossed over his chest.

Hoseok decides that 6:30 in the morning on a Saturday is not the time to argue over this, so he snuggles deeper into his covers. “Okay. You win. Goodnight.”

“You’re not getting out of this that easily,” Minhyuk chirps as he pulls the covers off Hoseok, exposing his warm skin to the chilly air, then whacks his butt. “Get up. I need to finish the cupcakes before I go to work.”

Hoseok feels himself waking up a little more, his sleep-addled brain working hard to piece everything together, realizing: Minhyuk must be stress baking.

Of course. Today is the Wedding From Hell—as it has been lovingly dubbed—between a particularly demanding Gangnam diva and her apathetic fiancé. Minhyuk is a wedding planner for Seoul’s elite, and this evening’s wedding will take place at The Luxe Hotel—the most sought after wedding venue in Apgujeong, if not the entire city. Hoseok has walked through the hotel’s sumptuous marble lobby, and it always left him feeling hungry for spicy ramyeon. Luxury has never particularly impressed him.

“Okay,” Hoseok concedes, yawning as he sits up and stretches his arms overhead. “Let’s go shopping.”

Twenty minutes later they’re walking through the doors of one of Seoul’s few 24 hour shopping centers in search of sprinkles. Most grocery stores in the city don’t open until normal people are awake. Hoseok looks around; the store is pretty empty, save for some half-asleep university students who look as exhausted as he feels.

Hoseok eyes the shopping cart that Minhyuk grabs on the way in. “I thought we were here just for sprinkles?”

“And a few other things,” he grins innocently.

Generic pop music crackles through the speakers as they walk to the produce section; Hoseok chews on his thumb nail, his mind drifting as they shop.

_I have something I need to tell you. Meet me at our spot tomorrow after school._

“Did he look good?” Minhyuk’s voice breaks into Hoseok’s thoughts. Hoseok shakes his head to clear the memory, only then realizing that he’s been staring at the same container of strawberries for a few minutes now.

It’s been three days and Minhyuk is still at it with the questions.

“Who?” he asks with attempted nonchalance as he places the strawberries in the cart and they move on to picking up eggs.

“You _know_ who.” Minhyuk side-eyes him as he throws crackers into the half-full cart.

Hoseok thinks back to three days ago, to the image seared in his mind: broad shoulders filling out an expensive grey tailored suit; dark brown hair that’s a tad too long and falling across strong eyebrows; kind eyes that crinkle in the corner when he smiles, lighting up his entire face. All he needed was one glimpse to know that Hyunwoo didn’t just look good, he was gorgeous.

“I knew it. He looked good, right? Your cheeks are pink!”

Hoseok pats his warm cheeks with his hands. “No they aren’t!”

Minhyuk smirks. “Whatever you say, hyung.”

They push the cart around the corner, still in search of sprinkles, when Hoseok hears, “This is terrible for you, Changkyun-ah.”

Hoseok freezes; he knows that voice. He quickly pulls Minhyuk down behind a mountain of Banana Kicks. Minhyuk yelps and Hoseok urgently clamps his lips closed, listening intently.

“Do you want me to starve, hyung?” comes a deep voice, edging on petulant.

Hoseok crawls to the edge of the display and peeks around the corner. He rubs his eyes, but it isn’t his sleepy, hungover brain playing tricks on him. Hyunwoo is actually there. He’s reading the ingredients on the bag of chips intently, eyebrows drawn together and lips puckered into a pout. His snapback is holding back thick hair from his eyes, his long-sleeved white shirt clings to his biceps, and his jeans are ripped so thoroughly that Hoseok can see honey skin peeking through—still glowing even in autumn.

The other man dumps more bags into the cart; he’s dressed in all black and the store’s overhead light catches on the silver studs in his ears. There’s something about the way he talks—cheeky and confident—that feels familiar. Hoseok cocks his head, trying to place his face, then he realizes with a start that the man is Hyunwoo’s cousin, Changkyun. The last time he had seen him, he was still a gangly child—an old soul with a knack for numbers. Hoseok wonders if Changkyun still likes chocolate milk.

“Why are we hiding?” Minhyuk whispers as he tries to peek around Hoseok’s head.

“We’re not hiding. We’re observing.”

“Who? Who? Who?” Minhyuk asks rapid fire, words mashing together and eyes sparkling with mischief. 

_Hyunwoo_ , Hoseok silently mouths.

Minhyuk grabs onto Hoseok’s shoulders and shakes him slightly, pulling him in so close that their noses touch. “It’s fate. Go talk to him.”

“No,” Hoseok whines and shakes his head.

“You need to face him and only then will you be able to move on.”

“That’s…a really terrible idea.”

“It’s called exposure therapy. Very scientific.” Minhyuk shrugs. “I read about it in a magazine or something.” Minhyuk peeks around the display. “Let’s get a good look at him—wait, _that_ is your first love?” he asks incredulously, with his mouth popped open.

Hoseok steals another surreptitious glance and watches as Hyunwoo orders meat from the butcher. He suppresses a sigh. “Yep, that’s him.”

“Wow,” Minhyuk breathes. Before Hoseok has the chance to say anything, Minhyuk is shuffling to another display much closer to the butcher counter and crouching again.

“What are you doing?” Hoseok stage whispers.

“I’m following him,” Minhyuk mouths back before moving on to another display. Hoseok urgently gestures for Minhyuk to come back, but he merely gives Hoseok a thumbs up.

_Why is this my life?_ Hoseok groans and temporarily abandons the cart, shuffling over to Minhyuk and crouching next to him.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Minhyuk begins theatrically, “pretend like you’re slipping on something, but fall _slowly_ to give him time to catch you. Well—hopefully he’ll catch you, like they do in the dramas.” Minhyuk pauses, considering. “We’ll never know unless we try!”

Hoseok stares at him in disbelief. “That’s your plan?” he deadpans.

“It’s foolproof,” Minhyuk counters confidently. “I’m a relationship expert.”

“Says the person who is still single.” Hoseok considers the idea, realizing how ridiculous he’s acting, a grown man hiding behind a magazine display in a nearly empty grocery store. He begins chuckling under his breath. They used to be best friends. How hard would it really be to talk to him?

“You’re right,” he agrees, nodding. “I should just talk to him.”

“Good.” Minhyuk grins then peeks around the display again. “Where did he go?”

Hoseok lurches forward, popping his head out above Minhyuk’s, searching the store. He sees the butcher and an unenthusiastic store clerk, but no Hyunwoo.

“Are you two stalkers?” The deep voice interrupts their urgent search.

Hoseok and Minhyuk yelp in unison and whip their heads around. 

“Why are you following my hyung all around the store?” Changkyun asks with a scowl that isn’t very intimidating. “I saw you hiding behind the Banana Kicks too. Not very discreet.”

Minhyuk pipes up. “No, no. This is all a misunderstanding. We’re not _stalking_ him. My friend is _in love_ with him.”

Changkyun rolls his eyes, unimpressed. “So is like half of Seoul,” he scoffs as he points to the magazines next to Hoseok’s head. Hyunwoo’s face is staring back at him; he was recently named Seoul’s Most Eligible Bachelor. This is just Hoseok’s luck.

“If you don’t leave now, I’m going to call security.” Changkyun juts out his chin.

Minhyuk stands up and puffs out his chest. “You can’t call security on us! My friend is a famous YouTuber! And I’m just plain old famous!” He pushes a finger into Changkyun’s chest, poking him to enunciate his words. “Who are you?”

“Changkyun-ah, I think we have everything—” Hyunwoo’s voice dies away as his eyes flit between Minhyuk and Changkyun. “Is everything okay here?” he asks cautiously.

Changkyun and Minhyuk begin talking over each other, their voices steadily rising as they explain the situation, but Hyunwoo isn’t looking at them anymore. His eyes are locked on Hoseok’s.

Everything Hoseok has wanted to say to Hyunwoo clogs in his throat. “I’m sorry, Hyunwoo-yah,” he manages to choke out.

Before Hyunwoo can even open his mouth, Hoseok grabs Minhyuk’s arm and they bolt toward the exit. Minhyuk makes grabby hands at their abandoned cart. “Sprinkles—”

“No time,” Hoseok pants out.

By the time they reach the subway, they’re both sweating and out of breath. 

“Well, that plan was shot to shit,” Minhyuk huffs.

/

“How much farther?” Changkyun puffs out, his breath a cloud of white in the cold November morning air. The sky is streaked with pre-dawn light, promising a beautiful sunrise.

Hyunwoo’s shoes crunch through a golden and red blanket of leaves carpeting the jogging path. “You whine every morning.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

Hyunwoo huffs out a laugh. “Only 2km left.”

When they reach the usual end point—a patch of grass near the Han River—Changkyun collapses dramatically and rolls onto his back, sucking in gulps of fresh air. Hyunwoo collapses next to him and looks up at the sky; this is one of the few places in Seoul where it isn’t obstructed by buildings.

“Do you want to grab some coffee before work?” Hyunwoo points to the coffee shop across the street as they stretch their hamstrings. “My treat.”

“Do you even need to ask?” he answers cheekily.

Hyunwoo and Changkyun both order americanos and wait off to the side, checking their phones.

“You should come to my office sometime today and I’ll show you the new project budgeting software,” Hyunwoo suggests as he answers another email.

“You want a lowly intern to learn project budgeting?” Changkyun asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey, this company will be yours one day, too.”

“Not if your dad can help it,” Changkyun mumbles as Hyunwoo picks up their drinks.

“Be careful, sir,” the barista cautions, “it’s very hot—”

Hyunwoo takes a long swig of the boiling hot coffee, relishing the warmth spreading through his body. “Tasty. Thank you!”

The barista stares at him with her mouth agape. “You-you’re welcome.”

“Don’t move,” Changkyun warns through gritted teeth. “One of your stalkers is back. The blonde one. Must have scared off the pink-haired one for good with my intimidating scowl.”

Hyunwoo follows Changkyun’s gaze over his shoulder and sees Hoseok, dressed in a baggy white sweatshirt and black sweatpants, sitting at one of the tables, staring back at him over the screen of a laptop.

“I’ll meet you back at home in a bit, Changkyun-ah.” Hyunwoo pats Changkyun’s shoulder and walks cautiously toward Hoseok, half-scared that if he blinks, Hoseok will disappear again. 

He feels Changkyun’s curious eyes on him as he approaches the table. “I don’t want to put pressure on you to talk to me, Hoseok,” he murmurs with his gaze fixed on his running shoes, “but I’ll wait outside under that maple tree”—he points to it through the foggy window—“for fifteen minutes. I hope you’ll decide to join me.”

The cool air stings Hyunwoo’s cheeks and ears as he sips his coffee and waits. With each minute that passes, he feels like he’s about to burst out of his skin, and it takes all his strength to stand still as anticipation, excitement, and dread flutter around his torso, knocking against his ribcage.

Hyunwoo’s stomach drops as the final seconds count down. _Hoseok doesn’t want to be friends again_ , he realizes with a dejected finality. He pushes away from the tree and begins to walk down the street toward his apartment; he’s already wasted enough time this morning, he shouldn’t be late to work, too.

“Wait! Hyunwoo-yah! Wait for me!” he hears behind him.

Hoseok is panting by the time he reaches Hyunwoo. “You walk too fast.”

Hyunwoo can’t help but smile. “You always did have short legs.”

They look at each other and laugh, hot bursts of air that ease the tension.

Hoseok's eyes sweep over Hyunwoo’s face, tracing his features until they reach his eyes. “I’m really sorry, Hyunwoo-yah,” he says quietly, echoing the words he had said at the grocery store. 

Hyunwoo’s breath catches in his throat at the sincerity in Hoseok’s voice and he has his arms around Hoseok a moment later, pulling him into a gentle hug.

“Everything will be okay. Whatever it is, it will be okay,” Hyunwoo murmurs as Hoseok leans his forehead against his shoulder.

“You must have been so lonely—and I just left,” Hoseok chokes out, and when Hyunwoo looks down at his face, he sees his cheeks streaked with errant tears.

“What are you talking about?” Hyunwoo asks with knitted eyebrows, not entirely understanding why Hoseok is so upset.

“When your mom died—I couldn’t call you, couldn’t contact—” Hoseok shakes his head, like he’s unable to find the right words.

“That was a long time ago. I’m okay now, Hoseok-ah,” Hyunwoo assures with a smile. He brushes the hair back from Hoseok’s eyes. _You’re still the same person. Always caring about everyone else even when you’re hurting,_ he thinks.

“You must really hate me,” Hoseok murmurs as he searches Hyunwoo’s eyes.

“No.” Hyunwoo shakes his head. “I could never hate you. I only wanted to know if you were okay.”

Hoseok pulls away and wipes at his face, laughing, “I’m such a mess!”

“What else is new?” Hyunwoo teases. “Just like the day we met.”

Hoseok pokes him in the stomach, and it feels like they never separated. Hyunwoo doesn’t want the morning to end, but he has meetings he needs to attend, and he’s still sticky with drying sweat.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Hyunwoo says as he pulls out his cell phone to exchange numbers. “Can we hang out sometime?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok responds, his lips pulling up into a brilliant smile. “I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! ♡


	3. Chapter 3

_I could never hate you. I only wanted to know if you were okay._

Hoseok makes a happy noise in the back of his throat and immediately rolls over onto his stomach, hiding his pink cheeks in his pillow. Hyunwoo’s arms holding him, while brief, felt so familiar—safe and comforting, like a homecoming—that he almost forgot why he had kept his distance. Hoseok sits up in bed and cinches the comforter tighter around his bare shoulders. 

_Should he tell him?_

He worries his lip, but ultimately decides: no, it’s too soon. They have only been talking again for a little over a week but it’s like they had never stopped.

It’s easy. Like old times.

He ignores the fluttery feeling under his ribcage and rolls out of bed to get some work done before his date with Hyunwoo that evening. _No,_ he corrects himself, _it’s just dinner and drinks between old friends._

He jolts when his cell phone begins buzzing obnoxiously against the wooden desk—and bangs his knee. He swears quietly, rubbing the sore spot as he answers the call, “Hi, Mom!”

“How’s my little star?” 

He fights the urge to roll his eyes at her adoring tone. He hears people chittering in the background and guesses that she’s out shopping, a favorite hobby carried over from her days as an attorney’s wife. Old habits die hard.

“I’m fine,” Hoseok answers as he swivels his chair to look out the living room’s lone window; weak autumn sunlight streams in, brightening the tiny space. “How about you? Any good deals at the shops today?”

She laughs cheerfully, her effervescence bubbling into Hoseok’s ear. “How do you know me so well? But no. Just looking.”

She sounds distracted and he can picture her marveling at a silk shirt or scarf, letting her fingers trail over the delicate material, then slowly putting it back on the shelf—and firmly into her past. 

“What are you looking at, Mom?” he asks quietly. 

“Nothing important,” she says, her voice sounding distant as if lost in memories. “Have you talked to your brother lately?”

Hoseok immediately tenses. “Hojoon-ah?” He works hard to repress the last conversation he had with him; the memory leaves his stomach roiling. He clears the bile from his throat. “It’s been a while.” 

“He won’t talk to me.”

Hoseok winces at the guilt coloring his mother’s tone. “He will, Mom. Just give him time.”

“I don’t know why I’m talking about this with you. How silly,” she says after a beat, her voice returning to normal. “Any plans for tonight. Hot date?”

“Oh my God, Mom,” he groans as he momentarily buries his face in his hands. “No, I’m going out with a friend. Remember Son Hyunwoo from…our old neighborhood?”

“I remember your huge crush on him.”

Hoseok groans again, only making her chuckle louder. “I’m hanging up now.”

“How is Hyunwoo? I heard he’s Vice Chairman now.”

Hoseok relaxes into his seat as he fills her in on everything.

“Well, I hope you have fun tonight.”

“Thanks,” he says, and he means it. This isn’t the first time that he’s struck by how lucky he is to have her unconditional love and support as a constant in his life.

A few hours later, just as the sun slips behind the horizon and leaves his workstation in shadows, he stands up and stretches, relishing the movement after sitting sedentary most of the day. 

Without work as a distraction, he feels nervous flutters tickle his ribcage as he dabs cologne to his neck and fixes his hair with his fingertips. He’s wearing a black turtleneck and jeans—warm and casual, perfect for the chilly evening.

Minhyuk pops his head into the bathroom, announcing, “I’m ready!”

Hoseok blinks. “For what?”

“Backup,” he deadpans, like it’s obvious. They stare at each other silently and Minhyuk’s eyebrow slowly rises to his faded pink hairline. “For your date tonight.”

Hoseok waves him off. “It isn’t a date though.”

“Well, what if _he_ brings backup?” Minhyuk crosses his arms and begins tapping his socked foot against the carpet.

Hoseok purses his lips, flicking his eyes to meet Minhyuk’s knowing gaze in the mirror; he hadn’t thought of that.

“Promise to be nice?”

“I’m always nice!” he answers as he throws an arm around Hoseok’s shoulders. “Let’s go get you a boyfriend!”

/

Hyunwoo smooths his hands over his charcoal wool coat and checks his watch again.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re, like, shaking.” Changkyun scuffs his leather boot against the sidewalk and worries his bottom lip between his teeth.

Hyunwoo follows Changkyun’s gaze to his exposed hands and is surprised to see them already red and wind chapped, trembling against his slacks. “Just cold,” he mumbles as he balls them into fists. “Should’ve worn gloves.”

Changkyun raises a disbelieving brow, but Hyunwoo cuts him off before he has the chance to be a smartass. “I’ll be fine. You should go home and warm up.”

“But you keep doing the thing.”

“What thing?” Hyunwoo mutters as he checks his watch again, realizing belatedly that he had been rubbing his chin. Again. He immediately shoves his icy hands deep into his pockets, ignoring Changkyun’s knowing smirk.

“Hey, Hyunwoo-yah!” Hoseok greets as he jogs up to him, cheeks pink and hair windswept. The street light glints off the silver loops in his ears. 

His pink-haired friend trails behind him, grumbling, “You didn’t have to run that fast. It’s almost like you’re desperate—” 

“Minhyuk,” Hoseok says through gritted teeth as he elbows him in the side. He smiles politely as he offers a handshake to Changkyun. “We never properly introduced ourselves. I’m Hoseok and this is my friend, Lee Minhyuk.”

Changkyun returns the handshake and smiles a bit sheepishly. “Im Changkyun. Sorry about what happened the other day.”

Hoseok shrugs it off good-naturedly and throws an arm around Minhyuk’s shoulder. “Anyone would mistake us for stalkers, especially this guy.” He turns to look at Minhyuk, mirroring his scowl. “Your baby face isn’t fooling anyone.”

Hyunwoo bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at his cousin’s sullen grimace. Hyunwoo is proud of him; he’s being a good sport.

The aroma of grilled meat wafts out from the restaurant as a garrulous group leaves and Hoseok rubs his belly. “I’ve hardly eaten all day. I’m starving!”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Changkyun mutters under his breath, then grins toothily when he catches Hyunwoo’s eye. “Aren’t you glad you brought me as backup?”

Meat sizzles and pops on the grills as they weave through crowds of families and raucous co-workers to a cozy round table in the corner. Waitresses flit from table to table, taking orders and delivering drinks.

Hyunwoo accidentally bumps Hoseok’s shoulder as he removes his coat and flashes an apologetic smile, feeling too large for the small, intimate space.

“Drinks?” asks the surly waitress, eyes already targeting the next table over.

Hyunwoo and Hoseok look at each other. “W-water?” they both stammer, unsure.

Minhyuk scoffs and orders soju. “All around,” he adds.

“And a chocolate milk!” Hoseok pipes up with a grin, turning his attention to Changkyun. “You used to devour choco milk when you were little.”

Changkyun sniffs indignantly. “I don’t remember that.”

Hyunwoo watches their exchange and feels warmth settle into his stomach, melting away the remaining shards of apprehension. Hoseok looks up at him, eyes crinkling in the corners as he laughs, and their fingers brush under the table.

_We’re only friends_ , he reminds himself when his stomach flips at the brief touch, already hoping to feel it again. They're only friends, but everything about Hoseok is soft, inviting—from his oversized turtleneck sweater to the gentle curve of his lips, to his warm hand nudging Hyunwoo’s thigh—and Hyunwoo feels hopelessly spellbound and very, very lost.

He searches his brain for something funny or witty to say, but comes up empty. He runs business meetings all day, commanding the attention of some of South Korea’s most powerful businesspeople, but sitting next to Hoseok reduces Hyunwoo to a silent, awkward mess. He kicks Changkyun’s boot a few times because he’s supposed to be there helping him, dammit, but his cousin is already wrapped up in a heated discussion with Minhyuk over video games. 

Hyunwoo releases a tense, nervous breath when the waitress finally drops off bottles of liquid courage. 

He swallows a gulp of the alcohol, savoring the burn in his throat as he watches Hoseok expertly grill the meat over the charcoal. Hoseok’s tongue pokes out between his lips as he concentrates on grilling. Hyunwoo shakes his head fondly, smiling to himself. _Cute_.

It’s at this moment that the other side of the table erupts into song, both men crooning out the Big Bang lyrics off-key.

“Quiet down,” Hoseok chides softly between giggles. “It’s too early in the evening for this.”

Minhyuk plops down and chugs more soju, smacking his lips together. “My hyung is the best!”

Changkyun steals the rest of Minhyuk’s bottle and downs it, wiping some of the dribble off his chin. “No, my hyung is the best.” 

“My hyung could bench press your hyung!” Minhyuk decrees and waves his hands around wildly.

“Well, my hyung could climb the highest mountain with your hyung on his back!” Changkyun declares a bit too loudly, inebriated flush high on his cheeks. A woman at the next table stares daggers in his direction.

“No more Battle of the Hyungs.” Hoseok shoves a slice of meat into Minhyuk’s mouth just as he opens it to retort. “Time to eat!”

Hyunwoo’s shoulders still shake with silent laughter as he bumps knees with Hoseok under the table. He leans a little closer to him, saying lowly, “Changkyun gets a bit protective when he drinks. Be careful. He bites.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Hoseok grins and looks up at him through his lashes. “Could you really climb Everest with me on your back?”

Hyunwoo snorts unattractively. “I’m not really into giving piggyback rides.” He looks down at the soju swishing in the shot glass. “Could you really bench press me?”

Hoseok’s mouth twists as he considers. “I can bench press Minhyuk.”

Hyunwoo chuckles, feeling lighter than he has in months, maybe even years.

“Okay. Burning question. Are you two really famous?” Changkyun asks lazily, now four bottles deep into the evening. 

“I wish,” Minhyuk sighs as he lays his head against Hoseok’s shoulder, “hyung is though.” He pokes Hoseok in the stomach and announces in a husky, faux-broadcasting voice, “He’s one of the ‘10 South Korean YouTubers to Keep An Eye On’ according to GQ.” 

Then Minhyuk leans in and divulges, “He even modeled with his camera equipment, shirtless—”

“O-kay, Minhyuk!” Hoseok elbows him and scratches his flushed neck. “I run the Spicy Ramyeon channel. I basically travel around and eat.”

“Oppa!” Minhyuk screams in a high, nasally voice. “Wonho-oppa!” He collapses against Hoseok’s side and Hoseok shoves him off playfully.

“I didn’t want to use my real name on YouTube,” he explains. “It’s freeing, in a way.”

“You’re able to work full-time as a YouTuber?” Changkyun asks.

Hoseok nods. “Mostly. I take on side jobs—video editing and graphic design—to help my mom.” His eyes flick to Hyunwoo’s before sliding away again.

“Wow,” Changkyun breathes out, eyes glimmering with admiration. “Teach me your ways!”

Hyunwoo sucks in a breath as a surge of pride washes through him. “You really did it, Hoseok-ah,” he says quietly. “You’re making videos just like you always wanted to.”

Hoseok shrugs, unfailingly modest. “It isn’t filmmaking, but it works for now.”

Something clicks and suddenly it all makes sense. “Was that why you were at The Kitchen? Were you filming?” Hyunwoo asks after he swallows another mouthful of food.

“Tried to. I was asked to leave.” Hoseok bites his lip and looks down at his half-empty plate. “My fans get a little loud sometimes.”

“Do you want to try filming there again?”

Hoseok shakes his head. “Nah, it took me months to get the reservation. Not worth it.”

“I could get you into one of the VIP rooms. I’m friends with the head chef,” Hyunwoo offers, internally cringing at how eager he sounds.

“Really?” Hoseok’s eyes open wide.

“Of course.”

Hoseok’s lips curl up into a sweet smile and his nose scrunches like it does when he’s particularly happy. Hyunwoo feels his chest swell with affection and decides that it must be the alcohol. Then he sways a bit in his seat, too warm and a little light-headed. Definitely the alcohol.

“Hyung.” Hyunwoo feels Changkyun nuzzle into his arm, always the affectionate drunk. “Hyung, I think I’m going to be sick,” he slurs approximately three seconds before emptying his stomach into Hyunwoo’s lap.

/

Hoseok jolts awake, gasping as he breaks through the viscosity of sleep, and gulps in mouthfuls of air. Sweat soaks the back of his thin shirt and he scrubs the remaining sleep from his eyes before sitting up, resting his shoulders against the headboard, shivering as the sheets pool around his torso. His cheek throbs with phantom pain right below the eye socket, and he reaches up to touch his nose, shaky fingers searching for rivulets of blood. 

_Nightmare_ , he reminds himself as he exhales slowly, emptying his lungs. _It was only a nightmare_. 

Slivers of predawn light filter through his curtains and he fights the urge to burrow under the covers, ultimately prying himself away from the warmth of his bed, hissing as the morning chill hits his bare legs.

When Hoseok can’t sleep, he runs; he craves the wind’s sting against his cheeks and the burn in his lungs that weight training can’t quite replicate. He runs until his chest heaves and his skin glistens with sweat. He loves running in snow the most, when the streets are still and silent except for the satisfying crunch of his shoes leaving prints behind him. Sometimes, only the moon keeps him company, its ever-present glow comforting, calming.

It isn’t snowing yet and the moon isn’t visible—but it is drizzling, the misty drops catching on Hoseok’s eyelashes.

Hoseok quickens his step, hitting his stride as he climbs one of Samcheong-dong’s myriad hills. He reaches his favorite part of the quiet neighborhood, where paintings cover every spare inch of the brick walls, brightening the otherwise drab spaces between restored  _hanok_  and trendy cafés. Hoseok admires the paintings—some vivid and cheerful, while others are monochrome, black and white.

Hoseok sprints up the last hill and enters into the apartment building, mopping sweat from his forehead with the hem of his sweatshirt as he climbs the stairs to the apartment. The living room is quiet and dark when Hoseok toes off his shoes and beelines for the shower. Rivulets of hot water melt away the remaining ropes of tension in his shoulders; he closes his eyes, allowing the stream to penetrate his numb skin.

He wipes the steam from the mirror with his hand, marveling at his reflection as he touches his nose. No one would ever know it had been broken.

_Knock. Knock._

Hoseok jolts at the soft noise, steadying himself against the bathroom counter.

“Do you still want help filming the anniversary message, hyung? I have to leave for work soon.” 

Hoseok squeezes his eyes shut. 

Breathe in. 

Breathe out. 

Smile. 

“Yeah, Min! Be out in a minute!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooohh, now we're getting to the good stuff! Next chapter we meet Kihyun and Jooheon! Thanks again for reading ♡


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a couple new tags, so please check those out! Also, I keep adding more chapters. Sigh.

_Hi, Bunnies! It’s that time of year again—Spicy Ramyeon’s anniversary special! This year I want to try something a little different. What do you want to see me do? Comment below with your ideas and I’ll choose one or two to film!_

Hyunwoo lets out a distressed noise and pauses the YouTube video just as Hoseok’s lips pull up into a warm smile. Seeing Hoseok—even just through a screen—has become a bright light in Hyunwoo’s otherwise monotonous day of meetings, contracts, numbers and more meetings. 

“Caught you!”

“Ah—Secretary Chae.” Hyunwoo instantly clicks out of the video and straightens up, slapping a neutral expression onto his face—pretending like his cheeks weren’t bunched up into a grin mere moments ago.

“You can’t watch pornographic material at work, sir. Against company policy.” Hyungwon wags his finger, lips pressed into a stern line. “I’m going to have to report your misconduct to the Chairman.”

“P-pornographic—” Hyunwoo’s mouth pops open. _Does Hyungwon really think he would watch porn at work?_

“Poor move, Vice Chairman.” Hyungwon removes his glasses and sighs, shaking his head solemnly.

“Secretary Chae,” Hyunwoo begins, but stops short when Hyungwon’s face cracks and he curls in on himself, dissolving into shoulder quaking giggles, his iced americano almost tumbling out of his hand with the force of his laughter

Hyunwoo stares, unamused.

“I know it isn’t porn, hyung, don’t worry. But—” he gasps after swallowing a long sip of his coffee and dabbing his wet eyes, “—your giant crush on that cute YouTuber is getting out of hand.”

Hyunwoo’s mouth drops open in horror and his eyes flit to the door conveniently left ajar.

“Oh, don’t worry. Everyone else thinks it’s porn.” Hyungwon shrugs his slim shoulders as if that should be comforting. “We don’t want the office in a state of pandemonium, Mr. Eligible Bachelor.”

“Hyungwon,” he chokes out.

“Oh, and The Kitchen’s Press Sec is on hold. Something about a romantic dinner for two?” Hyungwon taps a long finger against his chin. “Can I help with anything else, sir?” 

“I think I can handle it from here, Secretary Chae.”

Hyungwon bows just a hair too deeply and leaves with a satisfied bounce in his step.

Hyunwoo loosens his tie as he answers the phone, proud that he only sounds slightly strangled. “Son Hyunwoo speaking.”

Several hours later, red streaks the sky as Hyunwoo slips into his freshly pressed tuxedo and attaches the platinum cufflinks to his white dress shirt. Secretary Chae knocks and enters the room, announcing, “Your driver is here, sir.” He hands Hyunwoo his invitation—hand embossed with delicate gold leaf, with its own security tracking code to protect against counterfeiting and unwanted guests.

Hyunwoo tucks the coveted piece of paper into his breast pocket and steps out of the office building into the brisk November air; the city’s vibrant red and gold leaves have been swept away, leaving the city awash in grey. Hyunwoo replies to emails, eyes glued to his phone, the city’s buzz blurring into white noise as his driver weaves through rush hour traffic to The Luxe Hotel.

An invitation to this wedding—already lauded as Seoul’s event of the year—is viewed by many as a key into Seoul’s upper echelon. Emblazoned across magazines and newspapers are various interpretations of the same headline: _Kim Seokjin, a wealthy restaurateur, is marrying Bae Joohyun, an assemblyman’s daughter, in 1.1 billion-won_ _wedding._

Who is invited? What will they wear?

To Hyunwoo, it’s simply wealth marrying wealth, like all the other weddings he attends. He’s really only curious about the cake.

Hyunwoo is escorted through The Luxe Hotel’s marble lobby, passing heavy wooden double doors that lead to a private courtyard; he catches glimpses of the yard through leaded stain glass windows, breathtaking with its old-growth trees, water features and hand-laid tiles the color of the autumn sky. 

His shoes, brand-new and stiff, scuff along the plush carpet as he approaches the main ballroom. He swears quietly, already feeling a blister forming on his left heel.

Roses and lilies overflow like pearls from handblown glass vases, and crystal chandeliers sparkle overhead as Hyunwoo takes a sip from the proffered flute of champagne. His eyes flit around the room in search of food, which seems to be the only scarcity at these soirees.

A shock of pink hair catches his attention and he weaves through the opulence to crouch next to the man sitting with his back to the crowd.

“Hey, Minhyuk-ah.”

“Jesus, you scared me!” Minhyuk gasps as he grabs his chest, the plate of food in his hand wobbling, almost capsizing.

“Sorry,” Hyunwoo says as his lips uptick into a grin. “Where did you find the food?”

Minhyuk lowers his voice to a whisper, eyes mischievous. “Stole it from the kitchen. Perks of being the wedding planner. Want some?”

“Going to have to eat a burger or something after this,” Hyunwoo grumbles good-naturedly after he polishes off the minuscule finger foods, his knees cracking as he stands to full height. 

Minhyuk snickers as he stashes the plate underneath a nearby table overflowing with gifts; layers of gauzy white silk chiffon hide the evidence. “The food is much better than usual, as to be expected from Seoul’s top restaurateur.”

“Ah.” Hyunwoo deliberates his next words as he adds his own envelope, thick with won, to the gift basket on the table. “Seokjin-ssi may own the most restaurants in the city, but no one will ever win over my stomach like Chef Yoo.”

Minhyuk barks out a startled laugh then clamps his lips closed as he playfully hits Hyunwoo’s arm, clearly surprised by his directness.

“Are you name dropping again, Hyunwoo?”

Hyunwoo turns around and finds Kihyun standing behind him, eyes narrowed behind gold round-rimmed glasses and lips pulled up into the ghost of a smirk. 

After perfunctory introductions, Minhyuk scurries off, leaving the two men alone. Dressed head-to-toe in Armani, with his Rolex peeking out from his sleeve and diamond studs in his ears, Kihyun looks every bit like the son of a prominent Seoul family.

“How are you doing, Kihyun-ah?”

“Fine. Great, actually.” Hyunwoo follows Kihyun’s gaze through the crowd as it lands on a man’s well-dressed, slightly slouched frame, instantly recognizable as Min Yoongi. “The Kitchen is so busy that I’ve had to hire more sous and line chefs. Yoongi and I moved in together in June, and we adopted a puppy—” he shows Hyunwoo a short video of himself covering a fluffy brown puppy’s face in kisses, “—We’re thinking about opening a new restaurant sometime next year. I'm…really happy,” he says softly, then looks at Hyunwoo with wide, concerned eyes. “Sorry. Is this weird because we’re…you know.”

“Exes?” Hyunwoo shakes his head. “No. Not at all. I’m really glad that you’re happy.”

And he means it. While their post-breakup friendship was rocky at first, over the last three years, they have both come to realize that they are much happier apart than they ever were together. They may not hang out all the time, but Hyunwoo breathes easier knowing that Kihyun is moving forward with his life, thriving and content. He truly cherishes their friendship.

Kihyun straightens up and presses his lips into a thin line. “You would already know all this if you visited me more often,” he sniffs. “I saw your name on the VIP list—again. How could you not tell me?”

“Sorry.” Hyunwoo ducks his head, feeling a bit of the old awkwardness seep in. “It’s not for business this time.”

Kihyun blinks. “Are you going out on a date?” His voice lowers to a whisper, wavering between disbelieving and cautiously hopeful.

“No. We’re just friends.” Hyunwoo ignores the spark of compassion in Kihyun’s gaze; he detests misplaced pity. “Anyway, I promise to say ‘hi’ this time, okay?”

“Sure,” Kihyun says with a soft smile as he pats his shoulder. “It was good to see you tonight, hyung.” 

Hyunwoo watches him weave through the crowd, back to Yoongi’s side; Yoongi slips an arm effortlessly around his waist, their matching platinum rings glint under the subdued light.

Hyunwoo swallows thickly; he wants to be that promise to someone some day. He feels a familiar tightness in his lungs, an exquisite pang—sharp and delicate—underneath his ribcage. He aches sometimes, in the lonely spaces between work and Changkyun and Hyungwon’s levity, he feels it cling to him, following him from his darkened office to his cold, empty bed.

“Where’s Changkyun?”

His father’s voice jolts him from his thoughts and he turns to look at him; he’s a short man, his nearly bald head barely grazes Hyunwoo’s chin, soft-spoken like his son, but his words are clipped, clear, leaving no room for interpretation. Chairman Son commands attention.

“He couldn’t make it.” It isn’t untrue, but Hyunwoo is almost positive that he will find Changkyun and a group of his friends perched in front of the television, with forgotten bottles of beer and half-eaten pizza strewn around the room, engaged in a heated video game tournament when he arrives home later that evening.

His father hums. “He should be here suffering with us. When are they going to serve the damn cake?”

Hyunwoo chuckles and they ease into a familiar conversation about the business and its expansion.

His father nods and gestures around the room. “This was a smart business decision. Those two getting married, joining the Kims and the Baes together,” he lowers his voice and continues, “It’s really the only reason to get married anymore. It isn’t messy. Everyone keeps a clear head.”

Hyunwoo has the distinct feeling that his father is talking about himself, the deep love that quickly spiraled into intense grief and sorrow, and the countless hours he had locked himself away mourning his late wife—a love he later labeled as his only weakness.

His father’s eyes flick to Yoongi’s arm still cinched around Kihyun’s waist, and he frowns. “No reason for flagrant displays,” he continues as he juts his chin in the couple’s direction. The movement is so slight that it would go unnoticed by anyone else, but Hyunwoo flinches like he’s been slapped. “It’s just distasteful.”

Hyunwoo bows his head and stares at his shoes. He feels something inside himself shutter as numbness seeps into his skin like a protective blanket, and his father’s voice blurs into the background. All he can focus on is the sudden, bizarre urge he feels to burst the blister on the back of his heel.

/

Freshly showered, Hoseok heaves his gym bag over his shoulder and revels in the crisp night air hitting his skin. As he passes The Edge, a private, indoor rock climbing gym, he pops the earbud out of his left ear and yells, “Hey, Changkyun-ah!”

Changkyun glances up from his phone and his lips quirk up. “Hi, hyung.”

“Do you work out here?” Hoseok points to the rock climbing gym.

Changkyun nods and deadpans, “Hyung went so hard on me today, I think my arms are going to fall off.”

Hoseok laughs and looks through the large window, eyes automatically seeking out Hyunwoo. He finds him dangling from an overhang, and watches as he slowly pulls himself up and over the lip of the cliff, back muscles flexing under his thin white tank and golden skin glistening with sweat.

“Dead hangs,” Changkyun supplies. “Want to come inside?”

Hoseok drags his gaze away, slightly dazed, and shrugs. “Sure.”

Hoseok walks on the padded floors, his stomach swooping uneasily as his eyes look up, up, up, flitting between each multi-colored handhold until they reach the ceiling.

Hyunwoo jumps down from the angular wall and disconnects his line, lifting the hem of his shirt to mop sweat off his forehead. Hoseok’s eyes follow the movement and he’s blessed with the barest hint of a happy trail that disappears below his shorts. Wow…he’s in trouble.

Hoseok laughs shakily to himself as he peels his eyes away and plasters a grin to his face. _This was a mistake._

“Hey, Hoseok! I never thought I would see you here.” Hyunwoo’s mouth pulls up into a half-grin, completely oblivious to Hoseok’s internal swooning.

“Hey!” he greets and internally winces at how breathless he sounds. “Yeah, uh, I work out nearby and pass by here all the time, but—heights aren’t really my thing.” 

“Oh? I didn’t know that.” Hyunwoo somehow manages to keep a straight face, but his eyes are sparkling with mirth. “Are you interested in climbing? I could teach you,” he offers earnestly.

“Hell no,” Hoseok mutters as he imagines his feet leaving the floor; fear drips down his spine overtaking a brief buzz—the possibility of excitement.

“Yeah, don’t do it, hyung. He’ll make your arms fall off,” Changkyun echoes.

Hyunwoo covers Changkyun’s mouth with his hand and Changkyun promptly bites him, causing him to cry out in fake agony. 

Hoseok leaves the two men to finish their training and walks home; he’s still thinking about Hyunwoo’s offer as he toes off his shoes. He can’t deny that the thought of rock climbing is thrilling even if the mere mental image of himself a couple feet off the ground is enough to send his stomach plummeting.

“Why do you work out so much?” Minhyuk scolds him. “This is an emergency!” He waves a magazine article in Hoseok’s face.

Hoseok grabs the article and scans it, shrugging. “This is just an annual YouTube channel ranking.” The rankings fluctuate every year based on viewership and estimated ad revenue.

Minhyuk scoffs and jabs the title with his finger: Travel and Food Vloggers. “Number one is a brand new YouTuber—Joohoney—in the same category as you.”

Hoseok reads the article more closely this time. He’s heard of Joohoney through other YouTubers—the community is still pretty small—but he has never felt a pressing need to watch any of his videos.

“I researched him a bit,” Minhyuk continues, “His real name is Lee Jooheon. Birthday: October 6th. Blood type: O. Born in Daegu.” He pauses, then adds solemnly, “I think you should watch his videos, hyung. You must know your enemy.” 

Hoseok quirks his eyebrows, but clicks onto Jooheon’s YouTube channel. “His branding is on point,” he mutters as he scrolls through the channel’s homepage. _Buzz buzz, bae-bees_ —his catch phrase—has been adopted by his followers as they fill the comment section on every video with hearts, bees and honeypot emojis. 

Hoseok chews on his thumb nail as he watches a few videos. Jooheon seems to be at home in front of a camera: effortlessly charismatic and funny in a way that Hoseok merely attempts to be. 

“Wow, he even films in 4K,” Hoseok groans, feeling his stomach begin to sink. With their content being so similar, Hoseok’s own followers could easily switch over to a new channel. His usual competitive fire flickers out as dark thoughts take root, picking at his insecurities. 

“Hi, baby girl,” Jooheon begins his newest video. “I’m home. Did you miss me, Dior?” Then he changes the angle of the camera, so that the viewer can see the tiny white fluff-ball dog scamper over to him, with her pink tongue peeking out beside a snaggletooth. Jooheon picks her up and coos—and even Hoseok feels himself melt.

Hoseok pauses the video and rubs his temple just as Minhyuk screeches, “Puppy!”

“Fuck, Minhyuk. He even has dimples,” Hoseok pouts as he takes off his beanie to run agitated fingers through his smushed hair. “What am I going to do? I need to keep my followers.”

Minhyuk immediately sobers at the panic edging Hoseok’s voice.

“Have you figured out what you’re going to do for the anniversary special?”

“I’ve looked through the comments and I’m not really feeling any of my fans’ ideas.” Hoseok sighs, frustrated. He knows that his fans are well-intentioned, but he’s really not interested in hopping around Seoul with bunny ears and a damn bunny tail.

_Are you interested in climbing? I could teach you._ He immediately dismisses the idea. There must be another way that doesn’t involve shaking uncontrollably or puking.

“What do you think about something daring—like rock climbing?” he muses, not even realizing that he said the words out loud until Minhyuk spits out a husky belly laugh. 

“You would die! You’re terrified of heights!” he wheezes.

It’s true, but something about hearing someone else say it prickles under his skin. “It was just an idea,” he mutters.

“Wait, are you serious?” Minhyuk cocks his head and Hoseok looks up into curious eyes. 

“Yeah,” he admits, “I ran into Hyunwoo earlier today. I guess he rock climbs and he offered to teach me.”

“Wow,” Minhyuk ponders, “that’s a big deal, hyung.”

They study each other, then Minhyuk continues, “While you figure out what you’re doing for the special, I’m going to help you secure your position as Seoul’s top YouTube channel.”

“What are you suggesting?” Hoseok asks as he catches the glint in Minhyuk’s eyes and feels a shiver run up his spine.

“Destroy your competition,” Minhyuk says simply, eyes narrowed, focused and determined. “Don’t worry. I have a plan.”

/

“So, his plan was to fly down to Jeju Island and adopt a dog named Dodo,” Hoseok says, words pouring out in a tumble, betraying his nerves. He shakes his head and laughs. “At least I’ve convinced him to hold off on getting the dog. For now.”

Hyunwoo chuckles as he holds open the front door to The Kitchen and gestures for Hoseok to enter in front of him. The fire is roaring in the brick fireplace, the heat a welcome relief from the bitter cold. Hyunwoo removes his black scarf and feels his face begin to thaw; he wouldn’t be surprised if his cheeks were as red as Hoseok’s.

A hostess shows them to their private room; outfitted in dark woods and with its own fireplace, the space is warm and cozy—perfect for a meal shared between friends. Hoseok removes his beanie and shakes out his hair as he sets up his equipment. “I still can’t believe you were able to get us into a VIP room at the last minute.”

Hyunwoo ducks his head, grinning shyly. “I’m going to find Chef Yoo. Maybe he’ll be able to come by and explain the dishes to you.”

Hyunwoo peeks into the kitchen and finds Kihyun tending to what looks like kimchi stew. Hyunwoo’s stomach rumbles; he worked straight through the day in order to leave early for dinner, and he’s hungry.

“I need more Enoki mushrooms!” Kihyun calls out over the clanging, chopping and sizzling in the kitchen. Sweat soaks the chef’s hat keeping his dark brown hair out of his eyes, gaze focused and razor-sharp. “Oh! Hyunwoo! You’re already here.” His face softens with a grin as he wipes his hands on his apron and barks last-minute instructions to a chorus of “yes, Chef!” 

Two waitresses follow behind them with trays of food, sizzling grilled meat and lettuce wraps, fresh tofu made in-house, and steaming bowls of stew, all expertly prepared.

“You didn’t have to cook up every ingredient in the kitchen.”

“Anything for my VIP guests,” Kihyun responds as he elbows Hyunwoo in the side, a playful smile pulling at his lips. “And don’t pretend like you’re not excited to try everything.”

Kihyun bows his head as they enter the room and Hoseok returns the bow, while introducing himself. “I’m Lee Hoseok. Thank you so much for allowing me to film here tonight.”

Kihyun’s eyes open wide, his jaw drops and he freezes, quickly recovering a few moments later. “Nice to meet you, Hoseok-ssi. I’m Chef Yoo Kihyun. Could you excuse me? I forgot something in the kitchen. Hyunwoo-hyung, I’ll need your help with this.” He pulls Hyunwoo’s elbow, dragging him into the hallway.

Hyunwoo knits his brows as he watches Kihyun pace back and forth, running his fingers through his hair.

“How come you never mentioned that you were bringing Wonho?”

“Wonho?” It takes Hyunwoo a couple seconds to realize he’s talking about Hoseok. “Oh. We used to live on the same street as kids and recently reconnected.”

“I can’t just sit across from him and act like I don’t know who he is—I’m obsessed with his channel!” He shakes his head and whines low in his throat. “I can’t talk to him.”

Hyunwoo chuckles despite his friend’s panic—or maybe it’s because of his friend’s panic. “Everything will be okay. He just wants to meet you because you’re the chef. Maybe you could answer a couple questions or do a demonstration. You know, chef stuff.”

“Okay,” Kihyun agrees after a beat, sounding slightly calmer. “Okay, I can do this.”

“Wow. How did you slice the meat this thinly?” Hoseok asks as he zooms the camera’s focus onto each dish. He picks up a paper-thin slice of meat with his chopsticks and marvels, “I burn water when I try to cook.”

“Sounds like Hyunwoo-hyung,” Kihyun teases, his cheeks dusted pink, but some of the tension has seeped out of his shoulders. “I can slice the vegetables for you too.”

Kihyun holds a chunk of carrot and deftly carves it into a delicate flower. When Hoseok claps gleefully, utterly delighted, Kihyun practically preens, and continues to carve until there is a bouquet of vegetables arranged on the plate.

Hyunwoo rests his chin in his palm, eyes glazing over; he really just wants to eat. After about five minutes, he feels himself begin to pout. “I can do that too.”

Kihyun scoffs, but stops carving and the group finally begins to eat. “Don’t lie,” Kihyun scolds after he serves Hoseok some freshly-grilled meat. “The only thing you know how to slice is your finger!”

Soon, their bowls are empty and plates scraped clean, Hoseok making sure to document each dish carefully before digging in. As he stows his recording equipment, Hoseok asks Kihyun about the restaurant’s history.

“Hyunwoo helped me pick out this space,” Kihyun shares, voice soft and eyes distant as if lost in memories. “We were dating at the time, but barely saw each other. I was an executive chef at another restaurant and he was just named Vice Chairman of the company. He called me and said, ‘I found the perfect space for you!’ That was one of the last times we saw each other before we broke up.”

Hoseok flicks his gaze to Hyunwoo’s and doesn’t look away until Kihyun stands to leave. 

“I think I have all the footage I need. Thank you so much, Chef! Everything was delicious!” Hoseok gushes as they shake hands.

Kihyun returns the sentiment and leaves them alone, flashing a content smile to Hyunwoo, oblivious to the unexplained tension in the room.

Hyunwoo rubs his neck. “I guess I should have told you that he’s my ex.” He doesn’t really understand why he feels the urge to explain, but the words burst out of him, unbidden. “I’m sorry if you feel uncomfortable now.”

Hoseok pauses after he zips up the camera bag, then runs agitated fingers through his hair. “I’m going crazy,” he mutters to himself. “You really don’t have to explain anything to me, Hyunwoo. I just…didn’t know that you had a boyfriend. Or that you even could.”

_As a public figure—a chaebol._ He doesn’t have to say it for Hyunwoo to know exactly what he means.

“It was a long time ago. We were young and stupid, trying to keep it a secret, and then my family found out.” His fingers reflexively graze his cheek, but the sting from his father’s slap is long gone. He shrugs. “Breaking up was for the best. Kihyun and I work better together as friends. He’s found someone whom he fondly calls his soulmate.”

“And you?” Hoseok’s eyes are searching, alight with unspoken questions.

“I found—” he pauses, pressing his lips together, considering, “—work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANYONE ELSE FREAKING EXCITED ABOUT MX'S COMEBACK???!!! I srsly can't wait!
> 
> Also, thank you to everyone following this story! ♡


	5. Chapter 5

“It’s a solid, well-researched presentation, Changkyun-ah,” Hyunwoo reiterates to his cousin as they walk to the conference room. The board has invited employees to submit presentations for review, and Changkyun is one of five who will be attending as a guest presenter. “No matter the outcome of the vote, you should feel proud of the work you put into this market study.”

Changkyun’s gaze is fixed to the wall as if he’s studying it, but Hyunwoo knows that he’s absorbing his words, processing them in an attempt to calm his nerves.

They walk inside the conference room just as the rest of the board members take their seats. Hyunwoo sits in his permanent place to the right of the Chairman while Changkyun settles into one of the rolling chairs lined against the wall.

Each board member has a printed agenda as well as a glass of water. Hyunwoo takes a sip of water and the Chairman begins the meeting.

While detailed and proposing some novel ideas, the other presentations are rather dull and unrealistic, and Hyunwoo’s mind flits to all the other tasks he needs to complete that day. He restlessly shifts in his seat and waits until Changkyun is finally called to the podium. Besides a slight shake in his fingers, Changkyun looks poised and unflustered—calm, like a true professional. He stands tall, his frame filling out the charcoal suit; his eyes scan the crowd of division heads and executive members until he finds Hyunwoo, who gives him a small, encouraging smile.

“For nearly fifty years, Son Group’s focus has been to acquire and manage luxury apartment complexes and commercial real estate in South Korea and throughout much of the world,” Changkyun begins, voice deep and smooth, commanding the attention of the room. “As Chairman Son announced earlier this year, our future will also include hospitality management.”

The image changes behind him and he uses his laser pointer to highlight various medium-capacity hotels shown on the screen. “Over the last six months, I have studied Asia’s hospitality market in-depth and propose that we acquire Sunrise Hotels, a chain of Taiwanese-owned, middle income hotels that cater to Korean and Japanese business people.”

Changkyun clicks to a new screen displaying the prices and potential market growth, then continues to explain how Son Group could refurbish, expand and market the hotel chain. 

Hyunwoo is impressed; it’s a solid presentation, based on convincing growth potential, with just enough of Changkyun’s charisma to really nail his point home. Hyunwoo has listened to multiple iterations of this presentation, but even he can’t take his eyes off him. A prodigy, a numerical genius—and as Hyunwoo glances around the room, seeing every single person enraptured by Changkyun’s speech, he knows that his cousin was born to lead.

“And after we establish trust in the Son Group brand abroad, we will be well positioned to expand into the domestic hospitality market.” Hyunwoo claps heartily when Changkyun bows, marking the end of his presentation. They briefly meet eyes and Hyunwoo flashes a proud smile. The room is buzzing, unusual for a board meeting, and Hyunwoo is positive that the vote will overwhelmingly be in Changkyun’s favor. 

Chairman Son stands to speak, clearing his throat forcefully with his face shadowed in a scowl, and Hyunwoo’s stomach slowly sinks.

“First, I would like to thank Changkyun-ssi for his thoughtful and detailed presentation. The board acknowledges that you have spent a lot of time researching this avenue, and while it is a viable idea, I will unfortunately have to disagree with you and your vision for the company. For fifty years Son Group has been associated with luxury—and I hope that we will continue to move in that direction in the future. For this reason, I will have to vote ‘no’. Thank you,” he states with a nod of acknowledgment. “Now, we will take a vote.”

It is not surprising that Hyunwoo is the only person in the room who votes ‘yes’. He is permitted three minutes to speak.

“Changkyun-ssi touched on the very real fact that the luxury hotel market in Asia, particularly Korea and Japan, is oversaturated and the profitability of acquisitions in that market has been dwindling rapidly,” Hyunwoo counters in a clear voice. “Through his thorough research, he discovered an untapped pipeline into hotel management—and I believe that the board should heed his advice.”

Hyunwoo speaks in a low voice as he leaves the room with his cousin. “You did really well.”

Changkyun’s hands are shoved into his pockets. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but I guess it wasn’t that,” he sighs. 

Hyunwoo remembers back to the many presentations he gave in the same room, to a nearly identical group of people; enthusiastic and fresh out of business school, he felt devastated to have his ideas dismissed. After working through a steep learning curve, he now understands that this is business. What the Chairman says, goes. 

“I’ll treat you to sushi tonight, okay?”

“Okay.” Changkyun’s eyes are still cloudy, but his lips quirk up into a half-smile. “See you tonight, hyung.”

“Well, that was rough,” Hyungwon concludes as he settles his reading glasses onto his nose.

“Yep,” Hyunwoo agrees as he watches Changkyun walk in the direction of his cubicle with hunched shoulders. “He’s resilient. He’ll be okay.”

“Should I get coffee?” Hyungwon asks as he tries to stifle a yawn.

Hyunwoo feels his lips press into a thoughtful pout. “Changkyun says I should cut down on caffeine—”

Hyungwon freezes, face beginning to contort with alarm.

“—but since when do I listen to him?” 

“You scared me!” He releases a long breath, visibly relieved when Hyunwoo hands him his personal credit card.

Hyunwoo chuckles as he leaves Hyungwon at the elevator and strides to his corner office at the end of the hall.

Skimming through his notes as he sits at his desk, he mutters Japanese phrases under his breath and logs into his computer, opening the PowerPoint presentation in preparation for the morning’s conference call with Japanese investors.

It isn’t the right presentation.

“Dammit.” He frowns and his eyes flick to the time. 53 minutes until the meeting begins. Not time to panic yet. Hyungwon is usually on top of these things, but this week has been unusually busy.

“Oh, shit,” Hyungwon gasps over the line when Hyunwoo explains the situation. He can hear horns blaring in the background and he surmises that Hyungwon has yet to order at Starbucks. “I forgot to email it to you. Dammit—”

Hyunwoo interrupts his tirade. “Do you have a copy of it?”

“Yeah. It’s on the green turtle flash drive somewhere on my desk—”

Hyungwon’s desk is a paragon of organized chaos. The space is warm and a little disorderly, like Hyungwon, with files clipped together using multi-colored paper clips that only Hyungwon can decode and the surface littered with gifts from fans. He works the club circuit as a DJ during his off hours, and has framed photographs of himself smiling with family, friends and fans on both sides of his monitor. 

Hyunwoo feels his heart warm as he looks over the photographs and finds one of them both dressed in jeans and t-shirts flashing peace signs at last summer’s largest annual EDM event in Seoul.Hyunwoo met Hyungwon at a bowling alley when he managed to throw his bowling ball over the divider and into Hyungwon’s lane; he knew they were destined to be friends when they split a pitcher of cheap beer and spent the rest of the evening cracking up over who could bowl the worst. Hyungwon won that night but they still keep an ongoing tally. Hyunwoo considers himself lucky to be able to work with his close friend every day.

A quick search through Hyungwon’s desk produces takeout menus to his favorite seafood and barbecue places, ketchup packets and a can of soup that expired two years ago, but no flash drive.

He crouches, peeking under the desk and sees some more folders—and finally, the green sea turtle flash drive. He huffs out a chuckle as he grabs the files and flash drive, but pauses when a stack of flyers mixed in with the paperwork catches his eye.

Frowning, he reads the flyer advertising an early holiday event at Club X—one of Itaewon’s hottest clubs—headlined by DJ H.ONE.

“Sorry!” Hyungwon calls out behind him as he comes to a halt. “Sorry, the line was really long. Did you find the file?”

Hyunwoo nods slowly, then flicks at the flyer in his hand. “You’re DJ’ing this Thursday?” He tries to keep his voice neutral. 

“Oh.” Hyungwon winces. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Hyunwoo watches him shift from foot to foot, eyes averted guiltily. “You don’t want me there?”

“It’s not that I don’t want you there, but—” he trails off, “Remember what happened last time?”

Hyunwoo waves off his concern. “I can handle the Chairman. I’m not going to stop supporting you just because he disapproves.”

“You’re so stubborn,” Hyungwon mutters and presses his lips together in annoyance. “I’m not telling you this as your secretary, I’m telling you as your friend,” he continues quietly, eyes soft. “I don’t want you to go through that again.”

/

_“_ Wedding season is over!” Minhyuk crows over the phone. “Do you know what that means?”

“Uhh…no more pink hair?” Hoseok mumbles as he continues to edit the footage from The Kitchen, grinning when he hears Minhyuk scoff.

“No—” he can practically see Minhyuk’s eyes rolling, “we’re going out!”

The conversation took place three hours ago—and it sounded like a good idea, a way for two friends to hang out and destress from work. _Foolish_ , he thinks as his bones rattle with another body-wracking shiver. He could be curled up on the couch watching _The Avengers_ for the hundredth time and not in line behind barely-legal kids outside Club X, alone and regretting his life decisions.

The winter wind picks up, whipping through the buildings, and driving thousands of icy needles into his exposed skin. Shit, it’s cold. 

He huffs, annoyed. _Where are you, Minhyuk?_

“You look so hot!” Minhyuk screeches excitedly as he tackles Hoseok in line, pulling him into an enthusiastic hug, the bag stuffed full with work clothes swinging haphazardly around his wrist.

Minhyuk roots around in his bomber jacket and pulls out VIP passes for the event. “Seulgi couldn’t go anymore,” he explains as he fans himself with the cards, his smile haughty and a bit smug, “so she gave them to me!”

“You literally know everyone,” Hoseok mutters, rolling his eyes in faux-exasperation as he follows his friend through the VIP entrance.

Music pulses in his veins like a heart beat, luring him deeper into the club.

Blue and purple lights flash across the DJ table, highlighting H.ONE’s face. His headphones are resting around his neck and he’s bobbing to the beat, hyping the crowd and smirking when the crowd cheers.

Minhyuk bypasses the bar and pulls Hoseok by the hand as they squeeze through the sea of gyrating bodies.

“Just let go!” Minhyuk yells in his ear, smiling brightly.

Hoseok follows Minhyuk’s lead, inviting the music to seep into his body; he closes his eyes and loses himself to the beat and finds that he’s really enjoying himself.

Then Minhyuk stops dramatically and narrows his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Hoseok shouts, his voice barely audible over the music.

“He’s here.” Minhyuk juts his chin in the direction of the DJ table. 

All Hoseok sees is a mash of bodies, then he sees him—black leather jacket, loose white shirt, ripped jeans, black beanie half covering his bright orange hair. The lights flash purple, then blue on the silver bracelets encircling his wrist. 

Joohoney.

“Let’s go show him who really owns Korea,” Minhyuk growls as he pushes Hoseok towards the YouTuber.

Hoseok pumps himself up. “Are you Joohoney?” he bellows over the music when Jooheon stops dancing. He quickly loses his nerve when his brain catches up with the situation and he realizes he’s approaching a complete stranger in a club. ABORT MISSION!

Jooheon glances between the two friends and recognition flickers across his face. “Hey, Bae-bees! Buzz buzz!” he greets with a friendly smile, his dimples showing. He plucks off Minhyuk’s hat and signs it with a blue Sharpie that he apparently keeps in his pants pocket for this type of occasion. “Swag!” he says when he finishes drawing little bees around his signature and hands the hat back to Minhyuk.

Minhyuk blinks down at the brim of his hat, stunned.

“We’re done here. Just let it go.” Hoseok holds out an arm when Minhyuk begins to follow Jooheon through the crowd.

“No! He destroyed my hat.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes, but releases his wingman and walks to the bar to order a drink. The DJ is taking a short break and Hoseok is not about to dance by himself and get grinded on by strangers. No, thank you. 

“Hey, Hoseok-ah!”

Hoseok finds his lips reflexively pulling up into a smile at the sound of that familiar deep voice but he’s still surprised to see Hyunwoo perched on a stool, sipping a beer and grinning sheepishly.

“I must be seeing things. Son Hyunwoo is sitting in a club?” Hoseok teases as he sidles up next to his friend. Hyunwoo gestures to the bartender to take Hoseok’s order.

Hoseok takes a swig from the bottle. “Do you normally wear a suit when you go out clubbing?”

Hyunwoo chuckles, always willing to laugh at himself, the sound lost in the music. “I don’t normally go to clubs.” 

After he loses the suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves, he looks a little less out of place.

Hyunwoo fiddles with his bottle of beer, and Hoseok realizes that he’s nervous. _Cute._

DJ H.ONE comes up behind Hyunwoo and they high five, clearly friendly with each other. “You’re doing great up there, Hyungwon.”

“Thanks.” He grins and pinches Hyunwoo’s arm affectionately. “You still didn’t need to come though. Especially since you have that conference call in the morning.”

“One beer and then I’ll leave,” Hyunwoo promises earnestly. “Oh! And Hyungwon, this is my friend Lee Hoseok.”

Hyungwon’s eyes spark with recognition, lighting up his face. “You’re the YouTuber! Hyunwoo-hyung has been watching your videos so much that I’ve threatened to block the site!”

Hyunwoo pushes him away. “Shouldn’t you be back up at the DJ table?”

A look passes between the two men and Hyungwon smirks. “It’s still my break, but it looks like I’m unwanted here.” He grabs a bottle of water and weaves back through the crowd.

“Have you really been watching my videos?” When Hyunwoo scratches his chin and nods, Hoseok feels his cheeks heat and he covers his warm face with his hands. “That’s so embarrassing.”

Hyunwoo gestures for Hoseok to lean closer. “I have a question,” he says, voice soft and serious.

Hoseok presses closer, feeling heat radiate from Hyunwoo’s skin, keenly aware of their shoulders touching. Hyunwoo smells faintly of sandalwood—rich and earthy—and Hoseok is utterly intoxicated.

“Can I be your bunny, too?”

Hoseok blushes profusely until he catches the teasing glint in Hyunwoo’s eyes. “You ass! I thought you were serious!” he sputters as he smacks Hyunwoo’s arm, feeling the muscle flex underneath his fingers.

Hyunwoo’s serious facade dissolves as his shoulders begin quaking, and soon Hoseok is giggling too.

They finish their beers and order two more, and Hoseok finds himself settling even closer to Hyunwoo, cheeks sore from grinning as they talk. 

Hyungwon is back at the DJ table and asks the crowd, “Are you ready to party?” Then the beat drops and everyone packs together, surging along with the deep bass.

“Do you want to dance?” Hoseok finds himself asking, lips brushing against Hyunwoo’s ear so he can be heard.

For the first time that night, Hyunwoo’s face falls; he looks doubtful, unsure. His eyes dart around the room. “I haven’t danced since college.”

An alarm goes off in the back of his head. But Hoseok feels a little too warm, a little too brave. “Just one dance?”

Hyunwoo licks his lips, thinking, always thinking. “Okay.”

Hoseok leads Hyunwoo through the crowd, smothering his laughter each time Hyunwoo bows his head to apologize for bumping into another grinding body. 

“Like me!” Hoseok shouts when they settle on a spot and he finds his rhythm. Hyunwoo watches him with wide eyes and it’s a little like dancing with Minhyuk—easy laughter as they both try tricky footwork and fail, falling into each other, ebullience bubbling between them.

Then the song changes to a low pulsing beat, deep and slow and sultry. Hyunwoo begins to move his hips, rolling them as his fingers ghost along his inner thigh. 

Hoseok’s eyes follow the movement and liquid heat sparks under his skin, thrumming heavy in his veins, slowly spreading through his body. “I thought you didn’t dance?”

“It’s been a while,” Hyunwoo answers with a small smile.

They’re so close, nearly touching. It wouldn’t take much to feel Hyunwoo’s warm hand on his back, fingers searching under his shirt, hot on his skin. Or Hyunwoo could snake an arm around his waist, turn him around, rough palms gripping his hip bones and plush lips kissing up his neck.

Hoseok breathes out a hot, nervous breath and turns around, grinding back experimentally, smirking when he feels a puff of air—a gasp—against his neck.

Large hands hold his waist and he hears, “Is this okay?” The voice is rough, and a little breathless in his ear. Hoseok nods and leans his head back against Hyunwoo’s shoulder, his own fingers tangled into Hyunwoo’s hair. 

Hyunwoo’s Rolex presses into his belly, sending a heady thrill through him. He forgets sometimes that Hyunwoo is a chaebol, wealthy and powerful, but as Hyunwoo follows Hoseok’s lead on the dance floor, he wonders who really wields the power.

Sweat begins to dot his skin and pools in his collarbones as they dance for what could be hours; Hoseok is so lost in the movement, body throbbing, high off the feeling of being close to someone else after so long. 

He dares to look up into Hyunwoo’s face. Big mistake. This is definitely not like dancing with Minhyuk.

Hyunwoo’s hair is a mess from Hoseok’s wandering fingers and there is a flush high on his cheeks; he’s intently watching their bodies move together with hooded eyes, hazy with desire. Hoseok laces their fingers together and drags Hyunwoo’s hand over his flexing abs, then slowly down his hip to his thigh, encouraging him to be a little daring, touch a little more.

_What are we doing?_ He should probably ask, but is distracted by Hyunwoo’s fingertips slowly stroking over his thigh.

“Still okay?” Hyunwoo breathes hot against his ear as his hands settle onto Hoseok’s hips, pulling their bodies flush together—and Hoseok is positive they’re playing with fire, but he can’t quite bring himself to care.

He aches for more.

Hoseok licks his lips, his mouth dry—and he catches Hyunwoo’s gaze as it flickers down.

_He’s going to kiss me._ Hoseok buzzes, feeling electric, and yearning pools low and hot in his belly as Hyunwoo slowly leans in.

But his lips brush against Hoseok’s ear instead. “I think I should go home now,” he says, voice shaky.

Cold air smacks Hoseok’s cheeks and he sobers, shivering when they leave the body-warmed club. 

“Do you want to split a taxi with me?” Hyunwoo asks as he slips out of his wool coat and wraps it around Hoseok’s shoulders. Hoseok snuggles into the warmth cocooning him. “We could get some ramyeon. Noodles always taste better after midnight.” 

Hoseok looks down at his leather boots and smiles, feeling bashful now. “I have to find Minhyuk and make sure he gets home okay,” he answers as he fiddles with the sleeves of Hyunwoo’s coat, regret bleeding into his tone.

“You should go back inside and warm up.” Hyunwoo hesitates then pulls Hoseok into a hug, lips leaving the barest press of a kiss under his ear. “Don’t get sick, Hoseok-ah.”

Hoseok releases a long breath, his body still pulsing after the taxi leaves the curb, tail lights joining the other cars crowding the street. Winter air prickles at his skin as he lingers, not quite ready to return to the club and search for his roommate. He sighs and pulls the coat tighter around himself, burrowing his nose into the soft material.

It smells just like Hyunwoo.

/

After nearly two hours on the phone, Hyunwoo finally ends the conference call. He swallows a gulp of his coffee and grimaces. It’s cold now. 

He stands and stretches, leaning his forearm against the window. Although temperatures outside are hovering around freezing, the sun is shining, beckoning Hyunwoo to go rogue and leave his stuffy office behind.

Instead he buzzes Hyungwon over the intercom. “Could you bring me the tea tray right now, Secretary Chae?”

“Actually, sir—” Hyungwon knocks and opens the door, clearing his throat. “Your father is here to see you.”

Chairman Son pushes past Hyungwon. “You are dismissed.”

“Father,” Hyunwoo greets with a bow, hiding his surprise at the Chairman’s sudden appearance. “Please sit. Are you here to talk about the meeting with HK Corp?”

Silently, his father throws a manila envelope onto Hyunwoo’s desk and glares unblinking as Hyunwoo looks inside.

Puzzled, he pulls out a stack of photographs.

“What the hell is this, Hyunwoo?”

Hyunwoo’s stomach sinks as he thumbs through more than a dozen pictures that were obviously taken at the club. Candid images of him and Hoseok talking; both men caving in towards each other overcome with full-bodied laughter; Hoseok dancing, thighs flexing underneath his skin-tight jeans and abs on full display under the sheer top, his eyes closed and head lulling back against Hyunwoo’s shoulder.

He was going to kiss Hoseok. 

Hyunwoo swallows thickly, his body thrumming with panic and adrenaline. He was so lost in the moment that he could have slipped up and caught the attention of more than just this one nosy bystander. Hyunwoo would never be able to forgive himself if he saw Hoseok being dragged through the tabloids.

“Don’t ever— _ever_ —do this in public again!” his father snarls, voice booming as he slams his fist on the desk.

The words sink in.

“We’re only friends, Father—” he begins, then cuts himself off. No. It would be better if his father thought this was a random stranger, someone Hyunwoo would never see again if he demands it. 

“Do you have any idea how much the company had to pay to silence the jackass who took these pictures?” The Chairman’s voice is scathing and Hyunwoo drops his gaze to his desk, eyes following the wood grain. “You are Vice Chairman of this company, Hyunwoo. You are the face of this company. I thought I could trust you.”

Hyunwoo stays silent, letting his father finish.

“What if you had lost the company business deals because some gossip columnist caught whiff that Son Group’s Vice Chairman parties when he should be working!” His voice tightens with anger and there is a vein throbbing in his temple.

Breathe in, breathe out. 

“If your mother knew you were hanging out in _these_ types of places with _those_ types of people,” he enunciates as he points to the pictures strewn across the desk, “her heart would break, Hyunwoo.”

Hyunwoo closes his eyes, feeling his cheeks heat with shame.

“I’m disgusted by your behavior and very disappointed. Don’t let this happen again.”

Each barbed word slices through him and he’s left alone, completely eviscerated, staring blankly at the pictures on his desk.

Moments later he hears, “Vice Chairman?” 

“Ah. Hyungwon, I mean Secretary Chae—” he involuntarily flinches when he feels a comforting hand settle on his shoulder.

“I’ll get you some tea, sir. You still have a few minutes before your next meeting.”

Hyunwoo catches Hyungwon’s hand and tries to smile, but it wobbles and falls. “You were right, Hyungwon-ah. They took pictures at the club. I never should have—”

“Hey,” Hyungwon interjects softly as he squeezes his hand reassuringly. “You supported a friend and had some fun like a normal 28 year old.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I’ll get the tea now.”

/

Hoseok jolts awake, disoriented in the pitch dark room, and fumbles around, searching for his cell phone that continues to buzz on the night stand. 

He blinks and squints his eyes against the phone’s light. It’s nearly 3 am.

“Hello?” he rasps out as he rubs his eyes. He doesn’t recognize the number.

For a few long moments all he hears is heavy breathing crackle over the line, and he’s about to hang up, then—

“How’s my hot shot older brother?”

_Hojoon?_ He shivers at the venom in his brother’s voice. “Hojoon-ah? Are you okay?”

He hears laughter—loud and off kilter—and fear curdles in his stomach. “Have you been drinking?” he asks softly, treading carefully.

“You never answered my question, so what makes you think I’d answer yours?” his brother slurs.

Hoseok feels his heart beat in his throat. “I’m okay,” he says, trying to keep his voice even and smooth. “Mom and I went out to dinner for her birthday. We ate Japanese food.” He pauses, then adds, “She really misses you.”

“Then she shouldn’t have fucking left,” he spits. 

“Hojoon-ah—” 

The line goes dead.

Hoseok stares at the phone in his hand, his mind racing and he breaks out into a cold sweat. _Where is his brother? Is he okay? Does he need help?_

He sits frozen, not knowing what to do, then his instinct takes over. He throws on a sweatshirt and shorts, grabs his keys—

And he runs. 

The streets are relatively quiet at this time in the morning and Hoseok loses himself in his stride: one foot in front of the other. Breathe.

By the time he reaches the gym, his chest is heaving, but he feels calmer. More in control.

Light pours out from The Edge, pooling onto the sidewalk, and he follows it like a moth. His eyes widen in disbelief when he finds Hyunwoo climbing by himself in the empty gym.

Hoseok stands outside debating, watching Hyunwoo climb until he feels his heart rate slow and his breathing return to normal.

_Would he be able to climb to the top?_ he wonders. But as a thrill of challenge sparks under his skin, he knows his answer—inevitable since the day Hyunwoo offered to help him learn to climb.

Hoseok tries the door handle, surprised when it opens and he walks up behind his friend, chewing on his thumb nail. There’s almost something aggressive about the way Hyunwoo is climbing today, a determination pinched between his eyebrows. He watches as Hyunwoo jumps down and wipes his hands on his shorts, eyebrows shooting to his hairline when he finally sees Hoseok. 

“Hey! I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here.”

A reasonable assumption at 5 o’clock in the morning.

“Are you okay?” Hyunwoo continues softly as he takes a step forward. “I mean, are we okay?”

Hyunwoo watches him expectantly, worry knitting his brows together—and it’s just so like Hyunwoo to ensure that his family and friends are taken care of, that Hoseok’s lips pull up into a grin.

“Yeah,” Hoseok answers, chuckling softly, cheeks flushing as he thinks back to dancing at the club. “Yeah, we’re okay.”

Hyunwoo sighs audibly and visibly relaxes, all signs of tension leaving his shoulders.

“I’ve been thinking,” Hoseok murmurs as his eyes land on the ropes and harness that Hyunwoo had discarded, “that maybe I want to do that too. Rock climbing.”

Something flickers over Hyunwoo’s features, so brief that Hoseok can’t identify it. “Really?”

“Yeah. I want to film it for my channel,” he explains, voice stronger this time. “I’m just…tired of feeling scared.” As Hoseok says it, he’s not entirely sure if he’s only talking about his fear of heights anymore. “Can you help me?” 

Hyunwoo’s eyes study his face, assessing, and he nods slowly, deliberately. “It will probably take a while, but we’ll move at your pace. One step at a time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone reading the story as I post? Hearing your thoughts would really mean the world to me! ♡


	6. Chapter 6

“Hyung.”

Hoseok pauses mid-chew and looks up into narrowed eyes.

“You really need to calm the fuck down or I’m going to start baking cupcakes again,” Minhyuk threatens.

“Sorry,” he mutters. His knee is bouncing so hard that it’s vibrating the whole table. He slaps his hand onto his thigh, forcing his leg to stop moving, but his whole body is pulled taut, twitching with nerves.

“If you keep shaking like that, you’ll probably fall off the wall and break your ankle.” Minhyuk muses in between bites of cereal. “Or your wrist.”

Hoseok makes a strangled noise. “Thank you, Minhyuk. I’ll add that to the growing list of reasons why I shouldn’t learn rock climbing,” he deadpans, eyes narrowed in an attempt to pierce straight through his roommate who continues to chew thoughtfully.

Hoseok’s mind flits from one disastrous scenario to the next—his stomach heaving every time he even thinks about his feet leaving solid ground—and he catches his knee trembling again. _He never should have decided to do this_. Panic prickles up his spine and his eyes flit to his phone. _He could just call it all off._

“Yep, definitely your wrist,” Minhyuk concludes.

“I’m fucking sweating over here and you’re not helping,” Hoseok whines, wiping his damp palms on his sweatpants.

“Poor hyung,” his roommate coos, reaching across the small table to pet Hoseok’s hair. “Let’s hope Hyunwoo-hyung has quick reflexes,” he simpers with a wink. 

Just the idea of Hyunwoo catching him like a damsel in distress makes his cheeks burn.

“Do you think he’ll be shirtless today?” Minhyuk waggles his eyebrows.

“Perv.” Hoseok grins as he dumps his bowl into the sink. “Oh, and can I borrow your GoPro?”

“Yeah. It should be in my room somewhere,” Minhyuk mumbles as he sprawls on the couch, ready to engross himself in an anime marathon on his day off.

Hoseok flips on the light and it takes him a full 30 seconds to realize that he is indeed walking into Minhyuk’s room. Has the carpet always been this white?

“Are you trying to impress someone?” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ve never seen your room so clean.”

Minhyuk grumbles in response.

Time to find the GoPro. His initial search turns up nothing, but then an idea smacks him in the forehead.

Minhyuk always keeps anything important shoved under his socks and underwear. To confuse the burglars, he always says.

Credit cards. Gift cards. Some candy. Pawing through his roommate’s underwear is not number one on Hoseok’s list of priorities, but he needs the damn GoPro.

His eyes catch on something carefully wrapped in tissue paper in the corner of the drawer. Curiosity gets the best of him and he unwraps the paper to take a quick peek.

What the hell? He blinks down at the hat in his hand—the one that Jooheon signed at the club. Puzzled is an understatement. He’s positive that Minhyuk had said he was going to throw it away as a show of force against the enemy.

He wraps it in the tissue paper and puts it back where he found it.

After he finds the GoPro under Minhyuk’s limited edition Spider Man boxers, he leans over the back of the couch. “Found it! By the way, how did it go the other night at the club?”

Minhyuk had texted Hoseok shortly after Hyunwoo left Club X, telling him not to wait up, and that he had found a hot guy for the night—and he’s been pretty scarce since then, flitting in and out of the apartment, almost like he’s trying to avoid Hoseok.

“Night?” Minhyuk’s eyes have already started to glaze over.

Hoseok nods slowly, poking Minhyuk playfully in the stomach. “With Joohoney? You said you were going to pound him or something.”

“Pound him?” Minhyuk chokes, eyes snapping away from the TV. “How did you know?”

They stare at each other for a few seconds, unblinking, and Hoseok feels like he’s missing something important. 

“Oh,” Minhyuk breathes, the panic draining away from his features. “Oh. Right. Yeah. I took care of him,” he sighs deeply, sinking back into the couch with a lazy smirk. “Buzz. Buzz.”

“You’re acting weird this morning.” Hoseok narrows his eyes. “If I didn’t know better, I would think that you’re sleeping with the enemy.”

Minhyuk scoffs and mumbles something into the pillow he’s hugging. “Say ‘hi’ to lover boy for me.”

Hoseok hums and grabs his camera bag, hissing as he walks outside and into the frigid winter air. A block of grey clouds blots out the morning sunlight and the air is heavy, damp with humidity, promising an impending snow flurry. He jogs over to The Edge to warm up his muscles, swearing under his breath whenever his shoes slip on a slick patch of ice.

Hyunwoo is easy to spot; even in the crowded gym, Hoseok knows exactly where to find him, hunched over harnesses and ropes, broad shoulders and tan skin on full display under his skimpy white tank top. Fuck, he looks good—and Hoseok is once again unfortunately reminded that he _feels_ good too. He swallows thickly. _Ignore ignore ignore—_

“Hey!” Hyunwoo greets him, lips pulling up into a smile as he stands. “Are you ready?”

“Yep!” Hoseok’s voice is thin, betraying his nerves and the butterflies swirling underneath his ribcage. He licks his lips and runs quivering fingers through his hair.

“Okay,” Hyunwoo says, eyebrows pulled together seriously. “First, we’ll go over knots.”

Ten minutes later, Hyunwoo is still explaining how to tie a figure-eight knot. “This is a strong knot,” he explains patiently. “And one of the first that you should master.”

“I want to start climbing now,” Hoseok grumbles, jutting his lower lip into a pout. He catches the slight uptick of Hyunwoo’s lips.

“Okay. No more knots for today,” he agrees and claps his hands. “No ropes. We’ll start on the bouldering wall instead.”

No ropes? Suddenly, Hoseok wants to learn every knot in existence.

“Do your followers know that you’re learning to climb for the anniversary special?” Hyunwoo asks as he rubs chalk into his palms and hands the chalk to Hoseok.

“No. I told them that it’s a surprise,” he pauses, grinning, “but shouldn’t you already know this since you allegedly watch all my videos?” 

“Can we not bring that up anymore?” Hyunwoo groans. 

Hoseok snickers, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction as he watches Hyunwoo’s ears turn red.

“Okay,” Hyunwoo says as he turns on the camera. “Ready to record?”

Hoseok nods and places his hand on one of the holds. He feels his fingers tremor and he closes his eyes. He can do this—

“Climbing involves actually getting off the ground,” Hyunwoo teases, voice a warm rumble.

Hoseok turns around and whacks his arm. “I know that,” he huffs, but he feels a little of the tension leave him.

He lifts his foot up from the ground, heavy as lead, and his thigh begins to shake.

Hyunwoo touches his forearm, his hand rough with calluses, but warm and reassuring. “We go at your pace, Hoseok-ah. You don’t ever have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, okay?”

“Okay,” he breathes out, then takes another step.

/

“Changkyun was right—you really will make my arms fall off!”

Hyunwoo chuckles, cheeks sore from smiling so much. “Use your legs! You’re going to tire yourself out if you only rely on your arms.”

Halfway through January, the air outside is bitterly cold, but inside The Edge, it’s warm enough that Hyunwoo can feel sweat collecting on his lower back. 

Or it could be from watching Hoseok as he traverses the wall, muscles rippling underneath his thin shirt.

They have been meeting up at The Edge for several weeks now, and Hyunwoo finds that he’s adjusting Hoseok’s hands on the grips just to touch him. _We’re only friends_ , he reminds himself, but—when Hoseok jumps down off the bouldering wall and smiles, his entire face glowing with satisfaction—Hyunwoo can’t help but fall just a little deeper.

“You’re getting closer to the top. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Hoseok replies with a grin. “Not about to puke on my shoes anymore.”

Hoseok’s determination to climb is slowly replacing his paralyzing fear, and through trial and error as well as advice from other rock climbers, they have both learned training tricks to overcome acrophobia’s draining physical effects: taking 5-10 minute breaks whenever Hoseok feels dizzy, sometimes leaving the gym early if climbing is out of the question for the day. Hoseok is still far from being able to complete a climb, but Hyunwoo couldn’t be prouder.

“Want to come over and watch a movie?” Hoseok asks as he pulls on a sweatshirt and beanie. “Minhyuk is visiting his parents today.”

“Sure,” Hyunwoo agrees, forcing out all thoughts of snuggling together on the couch. He internally winces. This is such a bad idea. “I need to go into the office for a few hours, but I’ll come over tonight. Thai food okay?”

“You’re working on a Sunday?” he asks incredulously.

Hyunwoo shrugs, not wanting to admit that he needs to catch up on the work he’s pushed off in favor of meeting Hoseok at the gym.

“Oh, it’s snowing!” Hoseok exclaims as he pulls Hyunwoo outside, eyes open wide in wonder, delighted by such a simple pleasure. He turns his face up and tiny snowflakes dust his cheeks, catching on his eyelashes.

Hyunwoo watches in awe, enraptured by Hoseok’s unadulterated joy as he spins around catching some of the flakes on his tongue.

He’s breathtaking.

Then he directs his smile to Hyunwoo, and Hyunwoo feels physically winded, finally acknowledging that he would do anything to see him smile brightly like this again, unburdened, even if for a moment.

What started as a dull pang is now a miserable, gnawing yearning, overflowing and short-circuiting the logical part of him that warns: soon he’ll be in too deep. He _aches_ —to hold Hoseok and brush the snow off his skin; he aches to touch him and feel him shiver.

But he knows that he shouldn’t; Hoseok has disappeared out of his life before, and he never wants to risk losing their friendship again.

So for now, he rubs a warm palm over his chest, temporarily ameliorating the pain embedded there, and he returns the smile.

/

“Hey!” Hoseok calls out when he hears his roommate finally stumble through the door. “I was going to call the police if you didn’t come home today. I was starting to get a little worried.” He’s only half joking.

But Minhyuk is practically glowing as he slinks over to Hoseok’s work station, still wearing the same clothes he left in three days ago.

“What are you talking about?” Minhyuk laughs brightly. “I’m just working a lot.”

This earns him a raised eyebrow. Even during peak wedding season hell, Minhyuk always came home to change. Hoseok hums. “Whatever you say, Min.”

He turns his attention back to the computer and studies more of the feed from the rock climbing sessions. Hyunwoo has been helping him record, supplementing the GoPro footage—and he’s satisfied with the abundance of useable material.

Hyunwoo has never pressured him to move faster than he’s comfortable with, which somehow propels him forward anyway; he’s confident that soon he’ll be able to begin training on the climbing wall that he has eyed since the beginning—the one that reaches the ceiling.

As he continues to watch the footage, he hears Hyunwoo’s gentle corrections over the feed and instantly feels warm, like his friend is right next to him, body heat seeping into his skin. “Get a grip,” he groans under his breath.

His phone buzzes against the desk, jolting him out of his thoughts.

“Lee Hoseok-ssi?” The woman’s crisp voice clips over the line. “This is Gidae Medical Center—”

His mind clouds with panic and the first thing he thinks is: his dad finally found her. His mom is in the hospital.

He tries to listen through the ringing in his ears, breathing deeply through his mounting dread. “Gidae Medical?” he repeats, a full minute behind her.

He hears a suppressed sigh. “Yes,” she says stridently. “Are you Lee Hojoon’s guarantor?”

“Yes,” he answers robotically, voice barely above a whisper.

“Lee Hojoon-ssi is in the ICU—” and the rest is a blur as he gathers his coat and wallet, still listening as he runs down the stairs of his apartment building, exiting onto the icy sidewalk. 

“Taxi!” he calls out shakily, not even caring about the cost.

_Hojoon-ah is in the hospital_ , he repeats numbly as the minutes tick by. His fingers tremble against his thigh. _Should he call his mom?_

No. He decides to wait until after he knows more.

He leans his forehead against the window and closes his eyes, memories that he has worked tirelessly to repress play in succession on the backs of his eyelids. He grew up wishing that he could idolize his father; a powerful attorney with a heart of gold—that’s how the newspapers portrayed him. Hoseok was raised in a large house—one suitable for a wealthy family of their standing—and it echoed. Even hiding in his closet, Hoseok could hear every noise late at night: the loud smack of the initial contact followed by the crumble of the drywall beneath. The next day his father would be back at work and his mother acted like nothing had happened; the new painting covering the hole in the wall was supposed to be there all along. 

If no one can see it, it isn’t there.

Hoseok trained himself for years to not flinch at the sound of glass shattering.

He walks through the hospital on numb legs, dread a dead weight in his stomach when he reaches his brother’s room, the private room reflecting his coveted position as a partner at their father’s law firm—the youngest attorney to ever make partner in the firm’s history.

Lying in a thin hospital gown, skin gaunt and pallid, Hojoon has grown from an angry boy into a severe man. Hoseok’s heart squeezes seeing him lying under the scratchy blanket, alone, without a single card or flowers from well-wishers.

Guilt gnaws at his stomach replacing his initial shock, and he brushes his fingers over Hojoon’s cool hand, stomach roiling at the sight of tubes keeping his brother alive.

“I can feel your eyes boring holes into my skull.”

Hoseok breathes a sigh of relief at the first sign of his brother’s normal, surly personality. “Hey,” he says, voice tremulous, biting his lip to keep from crying. “How are you doing, Hojoon-ah?”

“Feel like death.” Hojoon sits up, voice scratchy and eyes glimmering with a rare vulnerability that makes Hoseok’s chest tighten. “What are you doing here?”

“The hospital called me.” He doesn’t mention that they told him he’s listed as his brother’s emergency contact.

“Why would they call you?” He sounds lost, anger a knee-jerk response, a thin veneer. Hoseok only hears pain. Fear. Even now, he knows his brother inside and out, knows by the tightening of his jaw that he’s trying hard not to cry.

Hoseok shrugs. Words like “drunk driving” flit through his head. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asks gently as he places a compassionate hand on his brother’s arm.

Hojoon flinches away from his touch. “Drank a little after work with some buddies. We won a big case and went out to celebrate. A tree came out of nowhere.” He shrugs. “I’m fine. The firm will take care of it.”

Hoseok nods slowly, eyes fixed on the hospital blanket, studying the dull pattern.

“Does dad still drink?”

“Dad?” Hojoon laughs humorlessly and finally fully looks at him, nostrils flaring, and eyebrows cinched together over eyes sparking with outrage. “Infidelity can drive a person to drink—even someone as principled as himself. But he hasn’t had a sip since you and mom left. We’re much better off without you.”

Hoseok feels a flicker of indignation flare hot in his stomach. “Mom didn't leave dad for another man. Those were rumors—” he says, voice dangerously low, “—and you fucking know it.”

“Rumors that we had to clean up.” He pauses, gaze sharp and unflinching. “Do you know how much of an embarrassment you are to the Lee name?”

Hoseok soaks in the callous words, but tries not to let them penetrate. “You’re drunk. You don’t mean that.”

“Even if you hadn’t left with mom, dad would have kicked you out anyway.”

“Does the firm still cover his drinking problem too?” Hoseok counters sharply, not bothering to hide his anger anymore.

“Get. Out,” Hojoon enunciates, pointing to the door.

Hoseok pauses in the doorway. “I may not be the best hyung, but no matter how much you push me away, I will never abandon you, Hojoon—” his anger fades away, leaving him hollow. “Call me when you’re ready to really talk about all this.”

Hoseok pays his brother’s fees and leaves the hospital in a trance, walking around aimlessly, feeling lost and sick with grief. The town is still much the same as it was when he left and he feels his world tilt as he walks the familiar path up the steep hill, through the empty neighborhood park to the tree.

Their spot. _I have something I need to tell you. Meet me at our spot tomorrow after school._

It’s still there, low and bent, overlooking the town below. The tree is so much smaller than he remembers. He touches the trunk, fingers following divots in the bark, then swings his leg over and sits on the thick branch.

The tree was the highest spot Hoseok would ever allow himself to be as a child; it thrilled him to feel so daring. If he closed his eyes, it almost felt like he was flying.

Then again, it always felt a little thrilling to be with Hyunwoo.

His phone begins vibrating against his thigh and he answers in a flat voice, not even bothering to look at the caller ID.

“Are we still climbing today, Hoseok-ah?”

Shit. He checks the time; he was supposed to meet Hyunwoo at The Edge over an hour ago. “I forgot—I’m in—I’m just,” he stutters as he rubs his temples. “I’m so sorry, Hyunwoo-yah.” 

“Are you okay? Where are you?”

Hoseok looks up at the bare branches above his head. “At our spot. The tree.”

A pause, then Hoseok hears, “Do you want company?”

“Yeah,” he whispers.

Hyunwoo doesn’t push him for answers, never pushes him, only replies, “Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Hoseok stares out at the expanse of grey and white buildings, not really seeing, and waits. 

A shoe scraping against the ground wrenches him out of his sea of thoughts. Hyunwoo is standing below him wearing his usual climbing clothes, only a thin sweatshirt and shorts to keep him warm. _He hadn’t even changed into warm clothes,_ Hoseok realizes and he feels something wretched—a broken sob—rise in his throat.

Hyunwoo throws his leg around the branch and scoots toward Hoseok, facing him. “This used to seem so much higher when we were kids,” he comments, voice rumbling and eyes warm.

“Yeah,” Hoseok agrees quietly, then chuckles. “Never thought I would be sitting here with you again.”

Hyunwoo hums but doesn’t comment right away. “You seemed like you needed company, so…here I am.”

He says it so effortlessly—eyes dark and earnest—that Hoseok’s breath catches in his throat. He blinks and looks away, taking in the scenery.

“I was always a little surprised that you could climb up here all the time, but cried on top of that baby jungle gym,” Hyunwoo muses, lips pulled up into a half-smile.

“I knew I was safe with you,” Hoseok murmurs, biting back a shy smile when Hyunwoo rubs his flushed neck.

It’s getting dark, pretty pinks and purples streak the sky, and Hoseok shivers. Hyunwoo scoots closer and wraps an arm around him, his body heat seeping into Hoseok’s skin. Hyunwoo always seemed so impervious to cold that Hoseok is almost surprised to see his ears and nose turn a deep, numb red.

He doesn’t want to tell him anything. 

He wants to tell him everything.

Hoseok feels himself crumbling and smiles like he always does. “I’m okay now,” he assures, sitting up straight, rebuilding his walls. “You should go home and warm up.”

Hyunwoo watches him carefully, eyes tender and searching. “You don’t need to hide when you’re with me, Hoseok-ah,” he says earnestly.

Hoseok digs his nails into his palm, trying to keep it inside. _Don’t burden him,_ he repeats to himself.

“Whatever you’re going through, I’m always here for you,” Hyunwoo continues softly.

Hoseok feels a tear roll down his cheek, then another—and his smile finally cracks.

“My brother is in the hospital,” he whispers like a confession, wiping the tears almost violently off his cheeks. “He’s an alcoholic, so is—so is my dad.”

He’s never spoken the words out loud before and everything overflows, the guilt, the fear, the loneliness, it all spills out of him, messy and imperfect.

Hyunwoo doesn’t interrupt him; he listens intently, with his warm arm around him, holding him securely, protectively as he explains that he and his mom left home to live in a shelter, and that’s why it seemed like he had disappeared. He had.

“We pulled my brother out of his room to come with us, but he fought it. He didn’t want to break up the family, no matter how broken we already were.” Hoseok knows Hyunwoo would understand this sentiment, that in many households, happiness is worth nothing compared to wealth and status.

“Hojoon-ah kicked my nose, hard, and broke it. He didn’t mean to—I know he didn’t, but I had to go to the hospital,” he pauses, swallowing thickly. “He refused to leave the house so we—” he chokes, “we left him there.”

Hyunwoo’s voice soothes, low and palliative in his ear, but he can’t hear him over his own grief.

“It’s all my fault,” he whispers into Hyunwoo’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut against a fresh flow of hot tears.

Hyunwoo stays warm and solid beside him, an anchor as Hoseok feels his heartbreak ebb and flow, washing through him.

“I’m just so tired,” his voice splinters. He feels wrung out, exhausted from keeping it all trapped inside for so long. “And I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you this sooner.”

He knows that Hyunwoo must have hundreds of questions running through his head, but he doesn’t voice any of them—probably won’t for a while as he soaks in everything that he’s heard. But Hoseok can tell from the subtle purse of his lips that he’s thinking. 

“No. Don’t be sorry to me, Hoseok-ah,” he finally says as he runs a gentle hand over Hoseok’s arm. “I couldn’t help you back then, but I’m here now.”

Hoseok looks into his friend’s eyes, sensing depth and compassion, and he wonders, not for the first time, if Hyunwoo knows more than he lets on. Hoseok leans against him, feels solid arms pull him even closer, until the space between them disappears, and he closes his eyes. “Can we stay like this for a while?”

Hyunwoo hums and Hoseok feels lips brush against his temple. And he is almost certain he hears Hyunwoo whisper into his hair:

_Anything for you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm...I wonder what will happen next?!
> 
> We're halfway through the story!! Thank you to everyone who commented on the last chapter! Your comments give me life!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all of you who waited patiently as I worked through writer's block; your encouragement and kind comments helped to keep me going. I really hope you all enjoy this chapter! Please share your thoughts with me in the comments :)

“Want to know how much time is left?”

“Nope. I could hang here all day,” Hoseok boasts; he shifts his weight and feels another bead of sweat slowly roll down his nose.

Hyunwoo chuckles softly below him, safely standing on the cushioned ground. “Love your newfound confidence, Hoseok-ah.”

“Okay, fine,” he sighs in faux exasperation as he feels his muscles begin to quiver. “How much longer?”

“Twenty more seconds,” Hyunwoo answers. “Put all those rippling muscles to good use!”

Hoseok laughs then instantly regrets it when the movement shakes his entire body—not a great idea when he’s hanging by his fingertips 3 meters above the ground. His forearms are beginning to tire, but he holds steady, firing back, “I don’t see you hanging from your fingertips, Hyunwoo!”

He can hear Hyunwoo laughing again, easily imagining his eyes crinkling in the corners.

When the timer beeps, Hoseok jumps down from the hangboard and wipes the chalk from his hands. He can’t help but grin; he completed three full climbs during the training session today and couldn’t feel more satisfied.

“You looked weightless up there,” Hyunwoo says as he claps him on the shoulder. 

“I do work out sometimes,” Hoseok teases as he flexes his bicep.

“Uhhh…right,” Hyunwoo chokes out before coughing. “Are your forearms feeling okay?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed with concern as he takes one of Hoseok’s hands into his own and begins to massage the skin between his fingers and up his forearm.

“I can do this myself,” Hoseok reminds him softly, trying to fight the warmth he feels at seeing their hands entwined, but he doesn’t pull his hand away. It’s these quiet moments together that make him ache to hold Hyunwoo’s hand, kiss his cheek to hear his breath stutter, and finally confess that he doesn’t want to just be friends anymore.

“I know, but I want to make sure you’re okay.” Hyunwoo looks at him, and something unreadable flashes in his eyes—something that makes Hoseok’s stomach flip. Hyunwoo returns his attention to Hoseok’s forearms, carefully kneading his skin and muscles. He clears his throat, adding, “Dead hangs can strain your muscles.”

Hoseok can’t help but smile at his friend’s concern. Hyunwoo is so gentle with him, even when he doesn’t need to be. Ever since Hoseok first placed his trembling fingers on the climbing wall’s hold, Hyunwoo has been patient and steadfastly supportive; just one reassuring touch from him helps Hoseok focus whenever he’s stuck on a climb or feeling anxious. He could be hanging from a rock overhang and feel safe if he has Hyunwoo by his side.

“Are your hands adjusting to climbing?” Hyunwoo asks as he traces a finger over the new calluses that have joined the old ones from weight lifting—and Hoseok holds his breath as he watches the finger move over his skin.

“Yep,” he answers after a beat then leans closer to Hyunwoo, stage whispering, “Do you want to hold my hand, Hyunwoo-yah?”

Hyunwoo sputters and immediately drops his hand, prompting Hoseok to cackle.

“Do you want to grab some lunch?” Hyunwoo asks as he gathers his bag, flush still high on his cheeks.

Hoseok is about to say _yes, of course_ , when he remembers—

“No, I can’t. Going ice skating with Minhyuk.” He hasn’t spent much time with his roommate lately, but he can’t help but feel a stab of disappointment.

“Ah, that should be fun,” Hyunwoo nods and smiles. “Try not to fall. The last time I tried to skate I fell and hit my tailbone so hard, it hurt to sit down for three weeks. ”

Hoseok leaves the gym with a smile on his face. Blossoms have started to bloom, landing in his hair and dotting the grey cityscape with wispy dabs of white and pink. He decides to skip the overcrowded subway ride and instead walk to the indoor ice rink, meandering his way past brightly-painted murals, tiny cafés and trendy restaurants.

Minhyuk spots him as soon as he walks into the chilly ice rink, bounding towards him with a huge grin and jumping on Hoseok like it’s been years since they’ve last seen each other. He’s bundled in a charcoal grey coat and black scarf, pink hair looking almost silver now. 

Hoseok hugs him tightly, truly glad to see him. Wedding season has started again and Minhyuk chatters enthusiastically about the deluge of new clients. Hoseok hasn’t been skating in a while and it takes a few minutes for him to get used to the feeling of gliding on ice, but soon the two friends are racing each other, both outright cheating in order to win.

“You cheated, Min!” Hoseok laughs as he points an accusing finger at his friend. “You tried to trip me with your foot!”

“Whatever, cheater!” Minhyuk screeches as he sticks out his tongue. “You tried to use your huge burly man muscles against me!”

Hoseok’s jaw drops and he’s about to retaliate when he hears, _“Minhyuk!”_

They both stop in the middle of the rink and look around. There’s a man on the sidelines waving at them. Hoseok squints. The man looks an awful lot like—

“Hey, Min. Is that Joohoney—” he murmurs as he turns his head, but Minhyuk isn’t next to him anymore. He’s skating toward Jooheon—and Hoseok feels panic rise in his throat. _Oh no_ , he thinks, _Minhyuk is going to kill him. I’m about to witness the first murder to ever occur on a public ice rink._

“Min—” he calls out, hoping to deescalate the situation, but stops in his tracks when he sees the two men wrap their arms around each other—and they aren’t at each other’s throats. Nope, there’s absolutely no resistance as Jooheon pulls Minhyuk into a bear hug and Minhyuk leans down to kiss him, murmuring, “Hi, baby. I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

Well. That’s a surprise.

Hoseok clears his throat and stares pointedly at Minhyuk, flicking his eyes between the two of them and raising an eyebrow, silently communicating: _What the hell is going on?_

Minhyuk shrugs and smiles sheepishly. _It just kind of happened. Lol. Sorry???_

Hoseok scoffs. Unbelievable.

Minhyuk links his pinky with Jooheon’s and they all meet in the middle of the rink.

Before his roommate has the chance to say anything, Hoseok extends his hand in greeting. “You’re Joohoney, right? We met at Club X a while back.”

“Hey, man! Nice to see you again. I recognized you at the club, but I didn’t want to make a scene—I’m like your biggest fan!” Jooheon gushes with a bright smile, his dimples popping. “Minhyuk talks about you all the time and I was hoping we could formally meet— _oof!_ ”

Jooheon sulks as he rubs his side where Minhyuk not-so-subtly elbowed him. “I’m going to talk to Hoseok-hyung really quickly, okay, Honey?”

Minhyuk pulls Hoseok aside and whispers, “I know you’re mad but please be gentle with him—he’s a big softie.”

“I’m not mad.”

“I can tell you’re mad,” Minhyuk points out. “You’re pouting.”

“I’m not pouting.”

Minhyuk sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I promise to explain everything later, but for now I’ll give you two some time to get to know each other.”

Hoseok clucks his tongue and shakes his head as he watches his roommate skate off the ice and hide behind the sideboard, silver-pink hair and two large curious eyes popping over the side.

“He must really like you if he’s expecting an interrogation,” Hoseok mutters. He turns to Jooheon who now looks a little scared.

“Hyung-nim,” he addresses Hoseok formally as he bows slightly, “please accept me as Minhyuk’s boyfriend.”

“What?” Hoseok is so taken aback that he bursts into laughter. “Relax, I’m not angry. A little surprised, maybe. Let’s start over. Do you like Minhyuk?”

Jooheon nods his head, eyes wide and earnest.

“Cool. Do you promise to never make him cry?” He knows that one is a bit unfair, but he needs to be a little tough or his best friend card will be revoked.

Jooheon nibbles on his lip and nods again, more cautiously this time.

“Okay,” Hoseok nods sagely. “You can be Minhyuk’s boyfriend.”

Jooheon blinks. “What?”

“I’ll pretend to hate you for a couple weeks—gotta keep my overprotective best friend reputation intact—but then we can be good friends,” Hoseok explains as he claps a hand on Jooheon’s shoulder. “Okay?”

“Uhhh,” Jooheon stammers, looking shell-shocked, but he ultimately nods.

“You can stop hiding now!” Hoseok calls out, biting back a smile when he hears Minhyuk squeak. 

They have a lot to talk about.

/

“If you look down at your phone and smile like that one more time,” Kihyun deadpans, “I’m going to whack you with this spoon.”

Hyunwoo flicks his eyes away from the screen and pockets his phone. “Sorry, Ki,” he mumbles sheepishly, bowing his head to show that he feels thoroughly chastised—although he knows Kihyun is way too soft to actually whack him. And too short.

What began as a way for the two exes to forge a new kind of friendship is now almost a ritual: Kihyun texts him, inviting him to taste-test new menu items after hours at The Kitchen. Hyunwoo arrives hungry and gives the chef honest feedback.

The restaurant is quiet save for the bubbling of the stew boiling on the stovetop and Kihyun’s quiet singing as he works; the only lights on are those in the kitchen. Hyunwoo watches his friend as he stirs in tofu and removes the dried anchovies.

“Who keeps texting you anyway?” Kihyun feigns disinterest as he chops the wild chives and adds a pinch to the doenjang-jjigae just before turning off the gas and removing the earthenware pot from the stovetop. Hyunwoo’s eyes follow the movement, stomach growling and mouth salivating for a taste.

“Remember my friend—the YouTuber I brought here?”

“You mean Wonho?” Kihyun asks. He blows on a spoonful of jjigae, tastes it and adds more chives.

“Yeah,” Hyunwoo answers as he leans against the spotless stainless steel counter, watching Kihyun scoop two servings of rice into individual bowls. “I’m teaching him how to rock climb.”

Kihyun hums as he sets down the rice and pot of stew in front of him and leans against the counter, watching him intently as he blows on a spoonful. The rich earthy taste of the mushrooms, chives and tofu explodes on his tongue. Nostalgia hits him hard and he can’t help but take another bite.

“So, how does it taste?” Kihyun asks as he leans forward, eyes expectant.

“Tastes like my mom’s,” Hyunwoo answers with a bittersweet smile, feeling an exquisite ache under his ribcage as he sucks in a deep breath. She was an amazing cook; most of his memories are of her in the kitchen. Sometimes he misses her so acutely that it’s hard to breathe.

“It can’t be that good,” Kihyun mutters before he tastes a spoonful. “Okay. It’s not bad, but—how can I make it better?”

Hyunwoo grins and takes another bite. “Maybe add more chili paste?” he offers with a shrug. “It really is perfect as it is, Ki.”

Kihyun’s cheeks dust pink and he bites his lip, failing to suppress a pleased smile as he busies himself with cleaning up the kitchen, preparing the space for another busy day. 

“Are you only friends?” Kihyun asks over the sound of running water as he washes a cutting board.

It takes Hyunwoo a moment to realize who Kihyun is referring to. “Of course,” he replies as he finishes the stew and rice, then stands up to help Kihyun clean.

Kihyun is quiet as he continues to wash dishes and he’s chewing on his lip like he does when something is eating away at him. Hyunwoo works silently alongside him, wiping down the counters as he waits for his friend to speak again. Kihyun finally asks quietly, “Does Chairman Son know about him?”

Images flash through Hyunwoo’s head. The photographs. The burning shame. His father’s grave disappointment and vitriolic words. “Not exactly,” he answers slowly.

“I’d be careful, hyung,” Kihyun cautions as he turns off the water and looks at him with worried eyes. “Remember what happened to us?”

Hyunwoo nods his head. He remembers that his father had someone follow the two of them, violating their privacy as he snapped pictures while they were eating dinner and ultimately collected shots of them kissing each other goodnight. He remembers the surge of anger and outrage he felt, the stinging slap on his cheek and the demand that he and Kihyun break up.

Another memory resurfaces—much more painful than anything that happened in the meeting with his father—one that he’s been suppressing for years. As soon as he left his father’s office, he called Kihyun to discuss what happened, anticipating a fiery pushback from his then-boyfriend. Shock gave way to stinging hurt when Kihyun very calmly agreed that they should break up. It was fun, but they were never really meant to be together anyway.

Something didn’t sound right in Kihyun’s voice, but Hyunwoo was so focused on his own bruises that he never delved too far into it. Now, as he looks into Kihyun’s pinched face and weary eyes, he feels a bewildering sense of dread creeping into his stomach, like he’s on the edge of an unknown precipice, about to plummet into the abyss.

Hyunwoo’s voice is hushed as he asks the question he’s always been curious about, “What really happened that night, Ki?”

Kihyun sucks in a deep breath, looking torn, but begins to speak after Hyunwoo nods his head reassuringly. “Chairman Son came to my apartment about a month before that and handed me an envelope. It was filled with stacks of won. He warned me that if I didn’t take the money and break up with you that I would suffer the consequences.” Kihyun fiddles with his fingers unable to meet Hyunwoo’s gaze. “I didn’t accept the money.”

Hyunwoo swallows thickly, feeling like his world is about to be upended. “What did he do to you, Kihyun?”

“First, he bought my apartment building. Then he bought this building, threatening to evict me,” he answers, sighing heavily as he half-heartedly waves his hand around the kitchen.

It doesn’t make sense. Hyunwoo shakes his head, pressing his palms to his eyes. His father is a decent man and the hardest working person Hyunwoo knows. How could he do this to someone who Hyunwoo cares about? 

“I’m in charge of the financials and I have to approve almost every purchase. How have I never heard anything about this, Ki?” he pleads, desperately searching Kihyun’s eyes. It must be a mistake.

Kihyun sighs again and his eyes are filled with sorrow. “You don’t understand, hyung,” he says softly, “I’m not paying rent to Son Group every month. I’m paying rent directly to your father.”

Hyunwoo chokes on his anger. His own father would go to such lengths to trap his friend? To ensure that Kihyun would never pursue a relationship with Hyunwoo again?

“I’ll fix this for you, Kihyun-ah,” he promises, not knowing whether he should touch Kihyun or not. Kihyun makes the decision for him by punching his arm softly and pulling him into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Ki.”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” he mumbles into Hyunwoo’s shoulder.

After the friends say goodnight, Hyunwoo wanders through Seoul and sits on a random park bench for a while, mulling over everything Kihyun confided in him. His initial anger and confusion give way to an immense, gnawing guilt. The only reason Kihyun is involved in this mess is because of Hyunwoo. 

He squeezes his eyes closed and his mind strays to Hoseok. What if Hyunwoo had actually kissed him that night at the club? What if they had decided to throw caution to the wind and date like any other couple would? His heart is too heavy to even stomach the idea of Hoseok getting hurt. 

By the time he toes off his shoes at home, his muscles feel like lead and his normally steel-clad stomach is twisting with nausea. All he wants to do is sleep.

“Changkyun-ah!” he calls out. “I’m home.”

“Out here!”

He finds Changkyun sitting outside polishing off a box of chocolate milk and enjoying the mild spring evening. He plops down next to him with a groan.

“Hoseok-hyung dropped off an entire crate of choco milk on my desk at work today,” his cousin says without preamble. “Then he took back like half the boxes to drink as his post-workout snack.” Changkyun clucks his tongue. “That hyung.”

“Cute,” Hyunwoo coos cheekily as he ruffles Changkyun’s hair.

Changkyun glares at him as he opens another box of chocolate milk and they lapse into comfortable silence. Hyunwoo searches for stars in the polluted sky and gives up after a while, closing his burning eyes.

“You know you can talk to me, right, hyung?” Changkyun offers softly, always too observant.

Hyunwoo looks at his cousin and feels the unexpected desire to share some of the burden with him.

“Changkyun, I—” the words feel like they will bubble over any moment, but he swallows them and forces a thin smile. “Could I have a chocolate milk, too?”

/

“What the hell is that?” Hoseok asks as he looks at the rusted out Jeep over the rim of his sunglasses. The car looks like it could fall apart at any moment.

“This—” Hyunwoo says as he proudly pats the car’s hood, “—is Beverly.”

“You named your car Beverly?” he deadpans.

Hyunwoo shrugs, grinning. “Bev for short. Changkyun named her in LA.” He fiddles with the handle a moment before finally heaving the door open with a wrenching creak. “Your chariot awaits.”

Hoseok kicks the tires, unsure. “You think she’ll make it up the mountain?”

Hyunwoo pretends to deliberate. “Guess we’ll find out.”

The weather is perfect; blue skies and warm, Seoul not yet hit with the smothering heat of summer. Hoseok rolls down the window; it’s the perfect day to rock climb outdoors.

Hyunwoo expertly maneuvers the hunk of metal through Seoul traffic, his hand brushing Hoseok’s knee each time he moves the stick. “So you studied in LA?” Hoseok asks conversationally, glancing over at Hyunwoo who somehow always looks effortlessly gorgeous, with his windswept hair, casual white t-shirt and black climbing pants. His skin is smooth and golden, glowing in the late-spring sunlight. Hoseok sits on his hands so he doesn’t do something stupid like run his fingers through Hyunwoo’s hair or squeeze his bicep.

His friend hums. “Changkyun and I lived there for a while when we were younger.”

“You did? For how long?”

Hyunwoo keeps his eyes on the road in front of him, his sunglasses masking his expression. “We left a few months after my mom died. My dad…couldn’t handle having us in the house while he was in mourning, so we lived in an apartment until I finished business school.”

Hoseok frowns. “You lived…alone?”

Hyunwoo clears his throat. Shrugs. “We had staff too.”

“You were only kids—”

“How are you feeling about the climb today?” Hyunwoo cuts in, forcing a change in the conversation.

Hoseok swallows the rest of his questions; he’ll ask again at another time. “Good. A little nervous.”

“You’ll do great, Hoseok-ah. You’ve worked hard for this and I’ll be with you every step of the way,” he assures with a grin, briefly placing his hand on Hoseok’s thigh. While fleeting, the touch sends Hoseok’s heart soaring. Hyunwoo removes his hand like he’s been burned and mumbles, “Sorry.”

Maybe it’s the fact that he could easily fall to his death today or maybe it’s the ache in his heart, but Hoseok feels a surge of bravery overtake him as he reaches for Hyunwoo’s hand and laces their fingers together. “Don’t be sorry. I’ve been sending you telepathic messages this whole time and you finally listened.”

“O-oh,” Hyunwoo stutters and glances briefly at Hoseok before his lips pull up into a shy grin. Even with his sunglasses on, Hoseok can see his eyes crinkling in the corners. It’s Hoseok’s favorite smile.

They park near the base of a cliff and hop out of the Jeep; there are already other climbers ascending, but they are mostly using ropes and tackling the much steeper sections of the mountain. 

“We’re going to climb that wall over there,” Hyunwoo points to a much shorter, simpler bouldering section. “It’s graded for beginners—and actually, it was my first climb I ever completed.” 

Hoseok tries to return Hyunwoo’s grin, but he’s starting to feel butterflies swooping and diving in his stomach. He distracts himself by methodically attaching the GoPro to his backpack for a view of the climb up and rubbing chalk on his hands. Hyunwoo already has the other camera strapped to his torso, prepared to take extra shots.

Hoseok studies the rock cliff as they approach it, listening intently to Hyunwoo as he thoroughly explains the plan of attack. Luckily, it isn’t as high as he’s been building up in his head, but he still feels his stomach plummet at the thought of leaving the ground.

“We go at your pace, Hoseok-ah. It’s bouldering—just like how we do it at the gym,” Hyunwoo continues. “Analyze the route. With each move you make, you’re solving another piece of the puzzle. Keep your eyes on the footholds.”

Hoseok nods. Licks his lips. His heart pounds as he places his hand on the rock—it’s much rougher than anything in the gym. He squeezes his eyes closed, gathering his courage, then turns on the GoPro and begins to climb.

He never imagined how different it would feel to climb outside, with the sun heating his back and rock dimpling his fingers. There isn’t a foam crash pad below him to soften a fall. Hyunwoo is a silent support as he climbs, giving him the space to figure out his next move for himself, and offering quiet suggestions when he’s stuck. 

Then he hits the lip—the last section of rock that he needs to pull himself over in order to get to the very top. He looks around for a foothold and doesn’t see one. He looks up, but he’s still too far away from the top to pull himself up. Sweat begins to pool on his lower back and he can feel alarm creep up his spine. 

He squeezes his eyes closed, trying to breathe through the sudden onslaught of panic. He tries again. He looks up, then he looks down—and the ground seems to whoosh up towards him. _Oh God_ , he thinks, _I’m going to fall_.

His palms begin to sweat and his thighs shake uncontrollably.

“Breathe, Hoseok-ah. I’m right here. We’re going to make it to the top safely, but you need to breathe.” Hyunwoo’s calm voice cuts through his panic. 

When Hoseok’s legs stop shaking, Hyunwoo continues, “First analyze the problem.”

Hoseok closes his eyes briefly to center himself. What does he do at the gym? He looks for a foothold—the highest one possible to propel himself over the edge. He takes his time searching the boulder again, and—there! He finds one. He dips his hands into the chalk bag one more time, eases his toe into the divot, hooks his ankle over the rock lip, then pulls himself up and over.

“Oh my God,” he gasps when he realizes what he just did.

Just then, Hyunwoo pulls himself up and over—and in a moment, they’re hugging each other. “You did it. You fucking did it, Hoseok-ah!” Hyunwoo exclaims as he holds him tightly. 

Adrenaline courses through his veins—and he feels electric. Alive. Like he’s floating. He’s so grateful that he walks to the edge of the cliff, looks out at the trees below and crows, “I love you, Mom! I love you, Bunnies! I love you—” he meets eyes with Hyunwoo, feels his stomach swoop. Hyunwoo flicks his eyes back to the camera screen as he captures Hoseok's post-climb euphoria.

Hoseok walks over to him and gently takes the camera from his hands. Turns it off, so that it’s just the two of them. “Thank you, Hyunwoo-yah,” he breathes as he takes Hyunwoo’s hands in his own and everything around him—the rough boulders, the verdant landscape, the clear blue sky—begins to fade away. Hyunwoo looks at him so tenderly, his breath catches in his throat and he _aches_.

The air around them crackles and Hoseok feels himself gripping Hyunwoo’s shirt, not quite pulling him towards himself, but not wanting him to leave either. 

“Hoseok-ah,” he says so softly that it’s almost a sigh. He cradles Hoseok’s cheek in his palm and Hoseok closes his eyes briefly, reveling in the warm touch. They’re standing nearly chest to chest, close enough for Hoseok to see the gold flecks glittering in Hyunwoo’s conflicted eyes. He can hear the click in his throat as he swallows.

Hyunwoo looks at him like he wants to touch him—like he wants nothing more than to hold him. To kiss him. And that’s what Hoseok craves too—what he’s wanted for months now, or maybe even years, if he is truly honest.

Hyunwoo breaks eye contact and stares out at the surrounding forest; a muscle in his jaw jumps as he clenches and releases, then he fully pulls away from Hoseok, shattering the moment. Hoseok feels his throat tighten as he sits down on the rock, silently looking out at the vista, trying to make sense of the stabbing disappointment he feels slicing into his gut. He hugs himself, feeling cold despite the bright sunshine. 

_We’re just friends_ , he reminds himself, laughing humorlessly under his breath. _How could he be so stupid?_

He can feel Hyunwoo hovering near him, but they both sit separately, collecting their thoughts. Hoseok turns around and catches Hyunwoo watching him with raw emotion swirling in his eyes. He feels an overwhelming urge to sit next to him and hold his hand. To assure him that they’ll figure all this out together. 

To his surprise, it’s Hyunwoo who scoots over to his side of the rock and bumps their shoulders together until Hoseok cracks a smile. It feels like an apology, one that Hoseok readily accepts as he lays his head against Hyunwoo’s shoulder.

_I have something I need to tell you. Meet me at our spot tomorrow after school._

He doesn’t know why the memory resurfaces right then, but suddenly he needs to know. 

“What were you going to tell me that day?” Hoseok asks softly. “The day we were supposed to meet at our tree.”

Hyunwoo doesn’t answer for a moment. “One day I’ll tell you,” he promises as he boops Hoseok on the nose—and they both smile, the tension melting away between them.

And all feels right with the world.

/

“You’re unusually quiet this morning,” Hyungwon observes, watching Hyunwoo closely over the rim of his glasses. They’re sitting in Hyunwoo’s office going over the day’s schedule, but Hyunwoo’s mind continues to drift back to other morning when he was standing on top of the boulder with Hoseok. He can’t shake the feeling that everything he’s holding inside will spill out one day and he’s going to cross the line that’s becoming more blurred as time goes on, fucking up one of his most treasured friendships.

_Does Chairman Son know about him?_ Kihyun’s question rings through his head again and he feels a swell of protection for Hoseok. Hyunwoo will never give Chairman Son a reason to know his friend; he’ll make sure of that.

“Sorry, Hyungwon-ah,” he mutters distractedly. “Where were we again?”

Hyungwon press his lips together in thought. “Is there anything you want to talk about, hyung?”

Hyunwoo shakes his head, a small, reassuring smile on his lips. “No. I’m fine, just thinking about the meeting with Chairman Son.”

After talking to Kihyun, Hyunwoo personally scheduled a private meeting at the Chairman’s earliest convenience. Although Hyungwon hasn’t been briefed on the details, he offers to help him prepare anyway. Hyunwoo declines with a small, grateful smile and they finish their meeting just in time for him to walk to his father’s office.

Hyunwoo squares his shoulders, silently going through the checklist of his main points. What Chairman Son did was morally reprehensible, but Hyunwoo knows that calling him out is not the way to get anything to change. He needs to appeal to his business sense because even if his father has made questionable personal decisions, he’s an impeccable businessman.

This is an exceptionally confidential meeting; without the secretaries and aides sitting in their usual seats off to the side of the main sitting area, the space feels more severe and cavernous than usual. Hyunwoo’s heart rate speeds up as he shakes hands with his father, and only then does he realize how nervous he feels.

His father gestures for him to sit down on the leather couch opposite of himself. There’s a tea service already set out on the table between the two men—and for some reason, there’s also a bucket of ice chilling a bottle of champagne.

Hyunwoo eyes it. How odd.

“Father,” he begins, pleased to hear that despite how nervous he feels, his voice is even, “I called this meeting to talk about something that has recently come to my attention—”

“Ah, yes, Hyunwoo-yah,” his father interrupts. “We will discuss that soon, but I have an announcement first.”

Hyunwoo feels his eyebrows rise slightly; he’s surprised, but defers to the Chairman and silently gestures for his father to continue.

“As you know, we’ve been working to break into the luxury hotel market and just this morning, I reached an agreement with Moon Resorts.”

Hyunwoo purses his lips. He didn’t even know his father was in discussions with the Moons—another chaebol family based in Seoul.

“With your participation, we will be breaking ground on a joint venture,” his father continues, speaking rapidly as he does whenever he’s struck a particularly rewarding business deal. “We’ve been given a once in a lifetime opportunity and I need your help to seal the deal.”

“Certainly, father,” Hyunwoo agrees, committed to doing whatever it takes to help his father finalize the deal. “Will I be managing the project?”

“Yes, of course,” he pauses, “and you will be marrying Moon Hyejin, the Moon’s second daughter.”

Hyunwoo blinks. He opens his mouth, closes it. There is absolutely no way he heard that correctly. _Marriage?_ The word repeats in his head as the Chairman continues to enumerate the details of the contract.

“—and of course, you can appoint one of your colleagues to be director of the hotel division. Perhaps Changkyun—”

“But, you know that I’m gay, Dad,” he chokes out, horrified and still reeling from shock.

His father abruptly stops talking; he rubs his face and sighs heavily. “It doesn’t matter if you’re gay or straight—what _you_ want doesn’t really matter, son. The company needs this partnership— _we_ need this partnership to finally break into hospitality.”

Hyunwoo shakes his head. “It doesn’t make sense. Why do I have to marry someone to make this happen?”

“We want to join the families together and corner nearly all real estate markets in Seoul,” he states matter of factly. “You will promote together but you don’t even need to live together. The paperwork for the deal has already been revised by the lawyers and signed. We just need your agreement.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then you forfeit your position as Vice Chairman of this company,” his father answers, “and your cousin is deprived of his only path to a leadership position.”

Hyunwoo winces. He’s dedicated his life to Son Group; he spends almost every waking moment building the company, pouring himself into this place that has become synonymous with his name. But Changkyun? He has been living with Hyunwoo since he was six years old. They grew up together. Hyunwoo loves him like a brother—and he could never take away this opportunity from him.

He looks at his father who is leaning back into the couch with his hands folded in his lap, watching him calmly as Hyunwoo swallows all this information down like a shot of acid. He wants to scream. He wants his father to slap him, demean him, shout at him—anything to shatter the tranquil silence, and give him a reason to say no.

But the Chairman continues to sit quietly, a businessman to his core. Hyunwoo’s eyes study him for any sign of compassion, but all he sees are the lines around his father’s eyes that have grown deeper over the years; how weathered his hands look as they lay clasped together in his lap; his devotion to the company, even at the expense of his own son’s happiness.

“How long before the news breaks?” Hyunwoo asks as he closes his eyes, rubbing his temples in an attempt to alleviate the sudden pounding headache.

“We’ll announce it in two weeks at the ground breaking ceremony.”

Two weeks. That’s it. That’s all the time he has before this nightmare becomes his reality. Hoseok’s face burns the back of his eyelids; his smile prickles Hyunwoo’s eyes with hot angry tears.

“Aren’t you going to sign?” his father prods with a small grin as he pops the cork from the champagne bottle and pours the golden liquid into two crystal flutes.

“I—” Hyunwoo swallows, searching in vain for anything to delay the inevitable. “I seem to have misplaced my seal.”

“For something as critical as this, you can use your thumb, son.” His father chuckles. Jovial. While Hyunwoo feels like he’s descending into hell.

He stares down at the paperwork, eyes unfocused. He could decline to sign and permanently leave behind Son Group, fucking up Changkyun’s only chance to become a rightful part-owner of the company, and losing his father in the process. Or he could sign and instantly propel the company forward, effectively launching his cousin’s career and making his father proud, all while a piece of himself dies. 

He sees Hoseok's face again and feels his chest squeeze. _I’m sorry_ , he laments silently, _but loving you will only bring you pain, Hoseok-ah._

He reads the contract once more.

_Do this for your family, Hyunwoo_ , he thinks as he presses his thumb into the red ink. _Fulfill your duty to Son Group._

“To Son Group’s future!” his father cheers as soon as Hyunwoo’s thumb hits the paper, sealing his and the company’s fates; he taps his crystal flute against Hyunwoo’s and gulps down the bubbly liquid.

Hyunwoo stares vacantly at his thumbprint, feeling hollow except for a sharp pinprick of sorrow deep in his chest, the first fissure splitting his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh...


End file.
